A Chilly Whisper
I await her gentle nudge
a chilly whisper of come hither
release from summer’s humid sludge
that subtle snip of season’s scissor
edged with icy, cooling, shiver.
As flannel flame consumes the trees
dark speckled migrants dot the sky
a longing that they must appease
subliminal, this need to fly
no laws of logic to apply.
Her cherished role – nature’s midwife
delivering the gardens feast
the sated birth of nurtured life
from hanging boughs, from furrows creased
her cornucopia bequeathed.
©8/24/2018
For the Bring On Fall Poetry Contest
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2018
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