The wind brings in a Northern chill,
as the Sun fades in the Western sky,
the new harvest moon appears at will,
the process without questioning why.
The tree leaves falling one by one,
as their green color fades from sight,
a yellowish red before they’re done,
the earth recycling during the night.
Plush green grass no longer does grow,
lying dormant during the winter time,
as the cold icy winds continue to blow,
chilling the body, pressuring the mind.
In the cabin out the window we stare,
the crackling of the wood on the fire,
we wait for the time from here to there,
memorizing flames lost in our desire.
For winter comes this time each year,
it’s as if everything dies to be reborn,
patiently we wait and we shed a tear,
feelings of loss, renewal keeps us torn.
Sam, nice images of a new harvest moon, bringing colorful leaves but also denying the lushness of the grass. I agree autumn, to me also, goes to sleep to be awaken in the spring. You've captured such a lovely painting here, I could vision a senior couple sitting by a fireplace awaiting for a renewal to come for both the seasons, as well as for them. A great poem!
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Be safe,
Karen
Kathy