Grr… Old Man Winter is trying his best to hold for dear life, but Mother Nature is a tough cookie and if she wants her blossoms to bloom she will have her way. Mud puddles and slushy sidewalks is what we have and as sprouts and sprigs decide to emerge from the frozen ground we will finally see more than just the sun bright rays.
Splash red –
A rush of autumn leaves that
Bled away their beauty as they
Died upon the breeze.
Stocky frames –
Thinning at the dendrites –
Animate their colour under dusk:
A paling brown,
Emerging grey –
Deeper, darker –
Leads to black:
Silhouettes braced for winter,
Like monuments of hardiness
Against the freeze.
Barely hanging overhead, charcoal-grey chassis
Buckle under silent flow of ever-stacking billows
While stings in the face foretell the ice-blight.
An arrow-bound wind builds,
Whistling out its warning
To the nakedness of winter woods –
Fair-weather green coats too fickle for the stay.
Summer died upon another eon.
Autumn scampered from the chill.
But the trees fought back; upheld their dignity –
No fuss, pomp, or thrill.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010