Poem -
the field gate (seasons)
twisted wrought though made of steel
grass and meadows or beasts avail
mice and birds that flurry along
tempting summers and evening glows
furrows in which we plant and sow
blooms abound and harvest go
swirling leaves and gusty storms
rain clouds bright and do just right
snowy landscape with fox in sight
rabbit footprints what a sight
this field gate sees so much
keep it closed and shut it tight
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Comments
Craig…this is a lovely write! I very much enjoyed your imagery in this piece. This poem reminded me of a special field gate at my grandmother's house. I traversed the season through that gate and saw much of what you described in your poem. Well done!
val
Thank you. It's my first. I pass this gate every day and thought I'd write a poem just this morning about this year. I'm sure I can imporove it and/or my grammer. But glad it spoke to you too. Merry Christmas.