Nature’s Quill
Crackling Canopy: A Poet’s Prelude to Winter
The red-gold carpet: nature’s welcome to winter
In autumn’s embrace, a mosaic unfolds,
A gold narrative, a story, eager to be told.
Beneath my bare feet, leaves rustle and speak,
Crackling echoes, the language they seek.
A golden carpet, a serenade of fall,
Whispers of foliage, a dance in the thrall.
Each leaf, a chapter, a tale to impart,
A symphony of colors, a masterpiece of art.
Weightless trees, shedding their attire,
Slimmer silhouettes, in twilight’s choir.
Through the boughs, the sky peers anew,
A canvas of heavens, a celestial view.
The chill of evening, a subtle shiver,
Bare feet on pathways, a pilgrim’s quiver.
Agony in the leaves’ soft protest,
A plea to linger, a moment to invest.
As darkness descends, a yearning takes flight,
The crackling logs in the fireplace’s light.
To homeward, where warmth and verses conspire,
Before the hearth, on sofa, by the dancing fire.
Red-gold carpet, a welcome to winter’s song,
In the hearth’s glow, inspiration prolong.
To write a poem on this twilight’s embrace,
A dance of leaves, a journey through grace.
