Shaggy fall fades
past flame, flutters
untidy across lawns,
flares against low sky.
Winter procrastinates.
Death wears gold, scarlet.
Life shows no hint of green,
pulses unseen from tap root.
I enjoy just hearing the words as I speak your poem, Victoria. That is a feast of itself. Fall is done yet winter procrastinates. What a unique perspecctive of the mingling of seasons.
Wonderful poem of the season, Victoria. Winter procrastinates....but eventually comes, like death.
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ReplyDeletepulses unseen from tap root.... unseen but pulsating nonetheless. Beautiful poem of winter, Victoria.
ReplyDeleteI enjoy just hearing the words as I speak your poem, Victoria. That is a feast of itself. Fall is done yet winter procrastinates. What a unique perspecctive of the mingling of seasons.
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