Comfort
In the corner of the field the hay is stacked ,
looking like gold ingots for the winter king.
The geese are gleaning among the stubble,
so intent on feeding they scarcely notice
the raucous crows that argue over head.
Soon the birds will leave for warmer climes.
The bales will fill some farmers barn and
the land will lay in wait for signs of spring.
For now though, the soft warmth of fall bathes
the path. and paints the geese with gold.
With thoughts of the beauty before me.. I
wander toward home and the comfort I find
there each time I climb the familiar steps
to my front door.
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2010
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