Winters Call
Winters Call
The leaves of autumn act out in defiance
Clinging to their branches, desperate to remain
Their brilliant red and gold has now grown rusty
Their voices rustling glumly in the trees
Chilling winds encroach upon the landscape
A prelude to a season yet to come
Preparing a new canvas on which nature
Will create a new and brilliant pastel theme
Pale blues and pinks and whites soon overtake us
Icy fingers pinch color to our cheeks
Sounds of the season seem to speak more softly
Muted by the presence of the snow
Life’s tempo moves now with a quickened cadence
A new urgency is added to our tread
We surrender to the pristine hills and meadows
And embrace a world alive with Winters breath
Copyright © Bob Quigley | Year Posted 2011
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