Dance To Her Tune
I do not see bright sunlight anymore,
as if the sun was fast fading away.
Autumn's charcoal clouds fuel cold rains that pour
down, sending the children inside to play.
Pretentious colors quickly fade from sight
till no traces remain, their beauty brief.
And short days relinquish their length to night
as trees stand naked, not a single leaf.
The honking wild geese have migrated south,
along with flocks of colorful songbirds.
And daunting rumors, spread by word of mouth,
say Winter is coming, in other words.
These signs foretell that She will arrive soon,
and we'll have to learn to dance to Her tune.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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