Cinnabar sentinels stand swaying in the mist of morning
through whispered hush and gentle breeze, like jewels , the leaves adorning.
Cool the streams in cresting waves float laurel barques of prizm hues,
washed past bulrush and fading ferns, through the bows of bending yews.
The fields of amber swaying grain, like dancing partners, svelte and lithe
as harvest time leaves nature's tithe, when cut with sickle and scythe
Too soon the cold of winter comes as frazil chokes the meadow brook,
and crushed vermilion petals fall in seasons ever bending crook.
Yet, now the dancing rainbows glide from crown to bough to lowly earth
where Autumn's fashion runway show, awaits next season's rebirth.
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2018
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