Summer's All But Gone
I no longer hear the songbirds sweetly singing,
and fear they've left, knowing what Winter is bringing:
yet I listen, each Dawn.
The crops in the fields are ripe and ready to pick,
coinciding with Summer's disappearing trick:
the dog days have moved on.
Shorter days and longer nights have picked up a chill:
and chrysanthemums have replaced the daffodil;
Summer has all but gone.
As Autumn's festival of color comes to pass,
Jack Frost transforms green into gold, amber, and brass;
as if with a crayon.
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.
