Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.177

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem



The shift begins unnoticed,
a quiet agreement
between the sun and the leaves.

No grand announcement,
no blaring headlines,
just a gradual softening
of the insistent green.

A single crimson leaf,
a hesitant flag dropped
on the battlefield of summer,
a whisper of what's to come.

The air, once thick and heavy,
thins ever so slightly,
carrying the faintest breath
of something cooler,
a promise whispered on the breeze.

Shadows lengthen imperceptibly,
stretching like sleepy cats
in the late afternoon sun,
a subtle shift in the day's geometry.

Birdsong changes its melody,
a few familiar voices depart,
replaced by new, tentative calls,
a changing chorus in the dawn.

Even the rain feels different,
no longer a warm, drenching embrace,
but cooler, sharper,
washing away the last vestiges of summer's dust.

It's a language spoken in hues,
in the slant of light,
in the texture of the air,
a silent poem unfolding
in the turning of the year.

And those who listen closely,
who pay attention to the almost invisible,
understand the profound wisdom
in this slow, deliberate transformation.

©bfa051525

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required