A Blustery Morning

The promise of winter rides the charging wind.

Dark clouds pace the sky, prophesying doom.

The weeping willows wail and thrash in protest.

Leaves, by the thousands, jump—a frenzy in slow motion—

then rush the streets with panicked footfalls to escape.

Not me. I read the signs like letters from a friend,

and smile, knowing winter comes this way again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s