Colours in the Wind
THE changing season flowed like hourglass sand,
VERY steady, no extremes withstanding.
WINDS tossed leaves a-dancing to their tune and
WHISPERED on the wind nothing demanding.
IN hindsight sad trees reached out all too late,
SOOTHING, sly, wind engineered crash-landing.
ACCENTS of Autumn prone to castigate.
MATERNAL instincts of cold branch did sleep,
NATURE well-inured to God's instruction,
BADE the gardener pile leaves good and deep...
(ME, I'm but a child bent on destruction.)
WEEP not dear gardener, your job is done,
NO adult force on earth dare halt my leap.
MORE dreary days ahead...for now have fun.
Quote (vertical):Mary Shelley
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