Poem -
THE SEASON OF THE GIFT OF THE OLD TO THE NEW
A pples of many hues, some having given up, lost their grip, fallen to the ground.
U nder layers of leaves sculpted by the wind into a sort of burial mound
T rees turning into transient autumnal beacons back-lit by the setting sun.
U p in the denuding branches birds' nests and candyfloss mistletoe have been spun.
M ists that linger long into the day, clear then return in a crepuscular gloom.
N ature starts its passage into hibernation like it's going back to the womb.
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Comments
Awesome! Bernie style.
Beautiful phrases, beautiful words.
I particularly like the last 3 lines. B
Awesome comment Bernadette. Thank you so much. B.
So many beautiful lines in this Bernie and it has a wonderful flow when read aloud. A perfectly poetic Autumn write x
Thank you Marion. Love the alliteration in your comment but then - I would wouldn't I. x
Finally,
Something that grasp reality,
How can we be,
Without dreams,
It is a well of springs,
Thank you,
Bernie Martin,
And thank you for your comment. Much appreciated.