November Hydrangea with the Shifting Color
Sunday sonnet
Published in
Nov 17, 2024
The colors shifting, drifting, draining out,
and fading further t’ward a dull, drab tan
while dropping brilliant swatches, hear them shout
with purples, shades of blue, this tune began.
The wind is whipping. Branches scratch and speak.
A chickadee does warn that I’m about.
Red oak trees whisper wisely, squeak and creak.
Light blue, among the faded blooms, shouts out.
The last green leaves hold fast, still in their prime.
Most fading, faster, crunching underfoot.
Hydrangea blooms brush softly, keeping time.
Lost summer colors. Where have they been put?
Why do we always have to hold so tight?
The past is over. Sing your fading light.
Thank you, The Daily Cuppa, for publishing these Sunday sonnets.
