March 2020

Words will flow hence, forthwith,

of thoughts and dreams and hearty pith,

perhaps forlorn and cast adrift,

perhaps found, a treasured gift…

What is known, what is felt,

desires so deep my heart should melt,

true weight too heavy to be heft,

boxed un-opened it’s often left…

The time has come it’s up to me,

to open up and let you see,

possibilities for you and I,

to change the world before we die…

In death may come the answers sought,

or consequences of lives we wrought,

we just don’t know, and either way,

today’s the day, today. TODAY!

Now is the moment, here the place,

a defining time for the human race,

our little existence on planet Earth,

our enlightenment, our true birth.

Autumn and the Fall

Autumn, you are beautiful,

With your auburn hair,

My companion these days,

I’m idling nowhere,

I sense you so close,

In the crisp lovely air,

The Fall is to fall,

In love as to care,

For you and your patience,

Your changes and all,

The days that you give me,

Till I’ve had them all,

And darkness shrouds me,

and I’m cold and small,

Autumn, I love you,

You are beautiful.

Autumn, you’re beautiful,

with your auburn hair,

I’m falling in love,

What are you doing to me?

This Fall is so beautiful,

But we can’t stay together,

You’ll depart on the wind,

What will happen to me?

2/9/20 “September”

Winter is lurking amongst the trees,

I hear her rustle through the leaves,

as the creepers blush from Summer’s joy,

before letting go and stripping bare,

and rainbows dissolve into grey.

September is upon us.

Rain sweeps by in curtains,

as the days are drawing in.

Set the stage, all change,

get ready!

Winter coat, old friend,

lined with excitement!

The fire’s been lit,

once already,

get it lit,

get it ready,

harvest time,

apple pies,

the prospect of clear blue skies

on Winter days

and Autumn trees to feast the eyes,

crisp leaves dancing,

falling snow,

hold your breath and see it, blow!

Cosy nights in and red wine,

by the fire,

Christmas time!

All a little nearer,

a little closer now.

Then suddenly!

Wrought from my stupor

by the nostalgic sun,

there, centre stage, unveiled,

quenching a forgotten thirst

lost already to the season!

Summer is not over yet!

The creeper’s grip’s still fast,

as the leaves upon the trees,

September and her dance with Winter,

heard and felt upon the breeze.