Every season has its special beauty and autumn is no exception. Watching the trees turn from a uniform green to all varieties of gold, yellow and red is a spectacular experience. One can almost be blinded by the fiery brilliance. How can it be that all this beauty is sign of death and decay? With all this beauty there is a certain sadness in knowing that the changing colors foreshadow the arrival of a long cold winter.
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Sing to me, Autumn, with the rustle of your leaves.
Breathe on me your spicy scents that flow within your breeze.
Dance with me, Autumn, your waltz that bends the boughs of trees.
This poem beautifully provides us an opportunity to feel connected with nature. As human beings, we have been born in the lap of nature, have grown under the protection of nature, but we’ve...
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Sun with his artistic touch,
streaks skies of blue with rosy blush,
trimming Oak and Maple too,
crimson reds with yellow hue.
Ahhh, such an enthralling tribute to Autumn you've gifted us from your golden pen! Thank you so much for sharing this lovely rendition of the Quatrain form ... my favorite for composing...
Golden, crisp leaves falling softly from almost bare trees,
Lifting and falling in a hushed gentle breeze.
Slowly dropping to the soft cushioned ground,
Whispering and rustling a soothing sound.
Letting go of painful things is probably one of the most difficult choices to make. But once you realize what your aspirations, visions, and ideals in life are- that these have become somehow...
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There's a crispness in the air that greets the morning sun, a feeling of anticipation, a new day has begun.
Harvest days are ending, winter is drawing near, yet in between is surely the most special time of year.
They call it Indian Summer, and it seems to fit the bill, for it's as if the Lord took a feathered brush and painted all the hills.
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Very beautiful & inspiring. "Women in Ministry" will share this at a coffee we are hosting for younger women we mentor in the church.
Sandy, Moderator WIM
Like crunchy cornflakes
Gold leaves rustle underfoot
Beauty in decay.
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A flash of lightening streaks across the sky.
We huddle close beneath the trembling eaves
As thunder roars a nightmare lullaby,
And strips the trees outside of summer leaves.
On a day like today, please take me away,
From the blowy and blustery weather.
I can't fly a kite or ride my bike,
Because of the blustery weather.
Describes my son in his youth! This name is familiar!
The leaves are changing and so is the weather
It's time to put away the shorts and put on the sweater
Halloween is near and Thanksgiving is coming
My favorite time of year this is becoming
November--
They say it is the month of death,
But I have never seen such beauty in decay.
I also love nature and especially Fall. I really enjoyed this poem, and I love your unique descriptions. To me, anyone who can describe nature like this is truly in touch with themselves and...
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