Gray Skies Crying
Fields get gleaned at summer's end
when day shrinks and night pervades.
And canopies start shedding
before Winter's cold invades.
Leaves blush scarlet and crimson,
responding to frost's first kiss.
And breaths of foggy air morph
into swirls; breezes dismiss.
Rutting sets the bucks on edge,
rivals clashing head-to-head.
Yet their pungent odor lures
compliant does; to be bred.
The ground crackles, treading on
the newly dead and dying.
And thin, skeletal branches,
reach up to gray skies crying.
Raindrops morph into snowflakes,
forming frozen puffs of cloud.
And Autumn's stripped of color,
buried under Winter's shroud.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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