Bold Strokes
Come October, I feel a nip in the air,
frosting my breath like contrails of smoke;
while gilded leaves start tumbling from the trees.
Overhead, a gaggle of honking geese
are fleeing Winter's approach:
joining the songbirds that have migrated south.
The Fall leaves are painted with bold strokes
of yellow, scarlet, fuchsia, gold, and orange:
inked by Jack Frost,
and sprinkled on the ground like confetti.
Amber and vermilion drip from the trees;
pooling into a crunchy sea
of colorful leaves: that the wind weaves,
into shifting swirls of abstract art.
One of Nature's boldest paintings,
Autumn steals one's breath away, instilling awe;
infusing Summer's death with Winter's birth:
a truly magical transformation to behold.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.