Waiting, Waiting
rivers murmur, birds sing and streams whisper
like a lullaby that soothes the soul
wild flowers grow along a woodland trail
and moaning, groaning trees creak in the wind
as nature is waiting, waiting
for there is a change coming soon
it is felt in the air with that slight chill in the morn'
oh, soon the leaves will be whirling down
all the red, burnt orange, yellow and brown
swirling, twirling, spinning in a dance
then, there will be a frost in the morn'
and snowflakes will be falling
until, the woodland is a blanket of silent white
waiting . . .
__________________
August 13, 2022
Poetry/Verse/waiting, waiting
Copyright Protected, ID 08-1479-857-13
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 08/19/2022
Third Place
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