Seasonal Death

through a mud stained field
and thickets galore
mountaintops blue in the haze
walked through hayfield stubble
with a damp, faithful dog

I am anticipating Halloween
but thoughts dissolve quickly
in fields and forest hues
indian summer is over
litters of leaves all around

we pass a dead coyote
the white dog pays no mind
there's no need to hurry
lots of creekside bushes
cause my path to crook and veer

I miss the smell of brush burning
and dread the winter coming
I'll cancel my reservation
and head for some coral reef distant
summer without end

twinkling snow berms
and bitter cold will come
but technology can remedy
the chill nuisance 
of Arctic's southward plunge
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Ravidas Avatar
August 28, 2019 at 4:25 PM
"The longer one stays here the more does the spirit of the moor sink into one's soul, its vastness, and also its grim charm". Remembered I donno why) Perfect walk, John. Mud stained field, dead coyote, white dog etc. This is all delicious for a reader.
Bertin Avatar
August 30, 2019 at 9:01 PM
I love Arthur Conan Doyle.
Vinson Avatar
April 13, 2017 at 9:12 PM
John, such a great feel to this poem. : ) Like the reader truly is there - well done!
Bertin Avatar
April 14, 2017 at 1:16 AM
I appreciate your comment :)
Bertin Avatar
April 13, 2017 at 7:42 PM
Thank you Aidan, I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Dufaux  Avatar
April 13, 2017 at 2:55 PM
Wow wonderful imagery!!!
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