5 degrees.
Wet trees
Drip yesterday’s rain.
The autumn came
Bringing acorns
And precious rain
To woodland lawns.
5 Degrees
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Tag Archives: autumn
In Flowering May
In flowering May
We little think
On Autumn grey
But our spring
Does not stay.
The Final Day of August
The final day of August
Brings Autumn’s coming chill.
Perhaps this is the last
Of Summer’s new-mown grass.
The eternal breeze
Rustles the leaves
And my once brown hair.
Leaf Blower
The leaf blower blows.
But can not keep pace
With the fall of leaves.
The wise man knows
That the race
Of dead leaves
Must end in dust
For them.
And men.
Autumn Must Come
Autumn must come
Soon. Who will recall
Leaves that fall?
So many men.
Yet there are
Far more fallen leaves,
Than there are men.
I Scent the Early Summer Air
I scent the early summer air,
And there
Find a hint of autumn leaves.
The trees
Hold what will be gold
Once autumn calls, and leaves
Fall down,
To the ground.
For within this early summer air,
I scent the autumn hiding there.
Autumn Fly
It may seem strange to repost my poem “Autum Fly” in the spring. However, the weather was cold yesterday. Indeed it was autumnal and, for a time wintry in nature. The change in weather brought to mind “Autumn Fly”, which is reproduced below:
An autumn fly
Buzzes around my head.
Summer is dead
Yet will not die.
Seasons pass.
We are brittle as glass
This fly
And I.
Summer Hides Inside the Spring
Summer hides inside
The spring.
Yet I find
That winter is not far behind,
For when the cold wind
Does blow,
On a spring day
I know
That each season passeth away.
Though, Winter’s snow may stay
For a cold spring day.
Whilst the late summer sun
Says, “autumn will come”.
I See Fallen Leaves Blown
I see fallen leaves blown
Hither and thither,
And I wonder whither,
Time has flown
I Saw Carefree Spring Kiss Winter Goodbye
I
Saw carefree spring kiss
Winter goodbye.
And I
Found bliss
Midst newly opened flowers
That time devours.
I saw summer hot
Take the spring,
But cared not
For I
Was still in love with spring.
I saw autumn come,
With her gentle sun
And knew my hours
Midst sweet flowers
Must fade away.
Now, on a winter’s day
I think on the flower’s bloom
Which is, so soon
Gone,
And on my grey hair,
And I wonder where,
The carefree, spring has gone.
K Morris - Poet 