Color steals from the scene leaving the landscape
mottled in muted shades of grey and brown.
the last of autumns vibrant leaves let go and roll away.
Canadas loiter in the field and pond
fill the sky in huge arrows pointed south.
Grey clouds hang thick and low ,
twitching finger branches tap the window.
As bare corn stalks rattle in the wind,
abandoned pumpkins wither in the skeletal garden.
Abundant harvest, feast of Thanksgiving, prayers of gratitude surrounded by
Flocks, hundreds of black starlings shifting paisleys in the air.
And then, snow, a few flakes, then more, and then winter.
This would be November.
mottled in muted shades of grey and brown.
the last of autumns vibrant leaves let go and roll away.
Canadas loiter in the field and pond
fill the sky in huge arrows pointed south.
Grey clouds hang thick and low ,
twitching finger branches tap the window.
As bare corn stalks rattle in the wind,
abandoned pumpkins wither in the skeletal garden.
Abundant harvest, feast of Thanksgiving, prayers of gratitude surrounded by
Flocks, hundreds of black starlings shifting paisleys in the air.
And then, snow, a few flakes, then more, and then winter.
This would be November.
DSW 09
2 comments:
Oh, SissyDea--you have a gift with words. You paint with then, as surely as I put color to my drawings. I can SEE this November day of which you write...and it gives me goosebumps!
Beautiful, dear one. Thanks for lifting some of the early November dreariness this rainy rainy morning.
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