a sonnet
Gray morning,
The seasons cringe; they shift and out creaks leaves’ light music. It’s…
I’m aware of the ironythat the most beautiful time of yearis when the leaves are dying, just before they fall.
Russet, red, gold, green,
Autumn I don’t welcome you
carried by the wind
As summer tucks her fiery headand sheds lingeringwarmth within these waning,hazy days,another waits impatiently to glow with…
cool breeze is stirringleaves are tapping on shouldersAutumn has arrivedleaves raining red-brown and goldleaving way past silver dreams