Words are the chosen tools of Mankind.
Autumn’s Sun
by Hugh A Tague
Autumn’s sun shines bright by day
warming the ground where fallen leaves lay.
As if Mother Nature had to sneeze
a strong wind blew the color from the trees.
Nighttime arrived with a clear star filled sky
sound asleep under a warm blanket we lie.
Jack Frost’s breath fell gently upon the ground
kissing the once green fields turning them brown.
Journey For Life
by Hugh A Tague
Bursting forth from an earthbound pod
finding freedom in the late Autumn wind
adrift high above the mountain’s side
through treetops on currents of air it rides.
The winds deflected by the canopy of limbs
sending the little seed twisting and turning
the fluffy white flyer’s adventure now unsure
as it falls gently toward the forest floor.
Fall of The Sumac Phoenix
by Hugh A Tague
Helios’ sun no longer reigns supreme
as Autumn’s sky begins to cool and gray
Hephaestus loads his brush in nature’s forge
painting each of the bird’s feathers with fire
wings stretched, the sumac looks skyward
milkweed burst in puffs of white smoke
and the phoenix is consumed by winter
until Boreas’ takes his last frosty breath
with Spring’s gentle touch, comes resurrection.
by Hugh A Tague
I see Autumn’s brilliant colors are all but gone,
Summer’s sweet song has long been sung.
Short days followed by endless cold nights,
brown forest and fields are now Winter’s delight.
I see a bear walking about curious and free,
no more long Summer’s naps, in the shade of a tree.
She now searches for a safe and suitable den,
so her and her cubs, can sleep until Winter’s end.
I see squirrels abandon their tree-top penthouse suites,
storing nuts underground, or in the hollow of a tree.
Needing food aplenty, they will not sleep Winter away,
even on the snowiest days, the squirrels frolic and play.
Late Summer Storm
The long warm Summer’s day
now begins to cool and fade
nighttime creeps into the day’s light
Winter’s reign of darkness now in sight.
Trees are the first as if prearranged
recognizing Mother Nature’s subtle change
denying life giving essence to branches and limbs
storing all its nourishment deep down within
soon they will enjoy a long winter’s sleep
a lasting silence but for an occasional crack or creek.
“The Feathery First Mate”
(QUATRAIN) In first person
by Hugh A Tague
Gliding high on a warm ocean breeze.
Over white sands beaches and bright blue seas.
Or perched way up high in a coconut tree.
That’s just a few places that I like to be.
From my crown to my tail and on both my wings
Color abounds, red, blue, yellow, and green.
when pirates came to visit me in my tree,
The captain of the ship took a fancy to me.
Winter
The silent, and unforgiving boreal descends
Upon tawny fields and umber forests.
Snowflakes glisten with hues of periwinkle.
Endless night’s moon sires ice crystal’s twinkle.
by Hugh A Tague
Sunshine rain and earth
transformed to feed
the tight little pods.
Vibrant lime stems
delivers nourishment
to the buds of gold
safely nestled among
guardian green leaves.
The day’s light
warms and excites them
the night’s cool air
allows them rest.
In anticipation
of nature’s promise
they patiently await
their debut.
Each in its own time
burst into full display
like a flame held high
upon a branch of life
in brilliant color
beholding to my
adoring eyes.
My breath quickens
my palms wet with sweat
my heart is pounding
nearly bursting through my shirt.
Once vibrant Victorian dental work
hanging from the porch roof’s eve
beckons to a brighter time
when all my family and friends
were warmly welcome inside.
The spirits of horse and riders passed
stand vigil near the mounting blocks
forewarn me of impending despair.
The weather-worn lapboard
moaned when I tread upon it
as a gentle breeze
brings a tree’s limb to life
tapping against the railing.
With a demonic snicker
from an old wooden chair
immediately next to the door
sat a spirit whose likeness
resembled my great grandfather.
Now only inches from the door
the cedar shake shingles begin to quiver
chattering like every nerve in my body
the tree now angrily beating
the porch railing.
The floor under my shaking foot
feels as if it giving way beneath me.
My breathing labored
my whole body trembling
I reach for the door.
The specter with eyes wide
stands up next to me
his mouth opens and a shrill scream
fills my pounding head.
Unable to stand another second
everything fades to black
I collapse in the threshold.
Unable to control the domatophobia
the demon domicile once again defeats me.
Jack Frost’s Storm
by Hugh A Tague
A white birch bows to Jack’s command
laden with ice upon each limb and branch
all of Summer’s color, his magic blanched
silent, it’s burden held within a frozen trance
Nearby an old willow stands up straight
once flowing branches completely encased
Her limbs pulled to the ground from the weight
Summer sleeps under a canopy of crystal drapes.
The landscape has become unknown
locked in place with tools of ice and snow
a tranquil wonderland only he could sow
Jack Frost’s Storm, a spectacle to behold.
by Hugh A Tague
Winter’s snow falls victim to the sun’s rays
The once hard soil softens with spring’s touch
Sleeping tree’s roots awaken with great thirst
From their mighty branches newborn buds burst.
The sun’s light cuts through the still sparse treetops
Bright green sprouts brake through the earth’s fertile crust
A fast running creek feeds the thawing lake
Tiny birds search about for worms to take.
A spring breeze drifts across the forest floor
A hawk soars high on warm air fed currents
A carpet of clover fills a clearing
Along our path bluebells are appearing.
Broken tree limbs winter’s wrath remembered
The fall’s felled leaves are now spring’s top soil
Shades of brown take on green and golden hues
Migrating birds make the trip home to roost.
The sun’s light cuts through the still sparse treetops
The once hard soil softens with spring’s touch
Sleeping trees roots awaken with great thirst
From their mighty branches newborn buds burst.
enveloped tree limbs
ice cold deciduous treat
powder coated art
eye candy in dawn’s daylight
blizzard made throughout the night
Hugh A Tague's Poetry & Prose 