INDIAN SUMMER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Autumn comes as a chariot of nature's flame. From woodland browns are born reds and golds to warm heart and soul. The leaves, like flags waving in every sweet breeze, swirl in a wind-choreographed dance. Soon they rest upon the forest floor, embracing their destiny to feed each earthen wintry root.
seasonal trustees
summertime takes final bow
fall heeds her calling
starry autumn night
season brings artistic hand
harvest abundance
Heat, like fog, engulfs the environment.
Flora and fauna burn in the sunbeams.
Clamminess-filled vapor goes virulent.
Mirages glimmer like unending streams.
Tempests brimming with dust and debris blow.
Unquenchably thirsty, the parched lands crack.
With abstract sky paintings, dry evenings glow.
Thunder peals, on and off, like an earthquake.
Days taunt. Nights haunt. We burn in the furnace.
Sleeplessness and nightmares pervade our nights.
Flies and reptiles perform a crude circus.
Heat climbs the atmosphere's immodest heights.
With the nomadic breeze, black clouds elope.
Timely drizzles, yet, try to bring some hope.
April brings more than
showers
Spring sometimes
cowers
To Winter after
flowers
August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born.
The odd uneven time—Sylvia Plath
End Of August
The end of August is oh so near
Yet, another day of golden sun scorches
Another day with ruby rays that sear
Wild brush burns like fiery torches
No not an exaggeration, a flambeau
Blistering heat blankets my tawny skin
Sweltering August, I bid you adieu
Foliage dry and brittle; sunken in
Squinting eyes, blinded bright
Awaiting shadows that stretch and deepen
Sun flowers once vivid, lost in a haze of light
Autumn creeps in imperceptibly subtle, sublimely
Ablaze are the arid western skies
The evening west's sun takes its time, rashly, untimely
Yellow aglow, settling sights of fires belies
Lingering sun setting its rouge rage lust
Harbinger of the season to come
Equinox heralds a sign,
in the end of August
Incredible warmth at October’s end kisses GoddesS
Nature, and the only thing I can think about is yoU
Do you recall the time we first met so like a dreaM?
I saw you, and a poem inside me started to blooM.
A calm like that beautiful day began to caress mE.
Nestled in your arms, I lingered in sweet wondeR.
The scorching sunbeams
Envelop this atmosphere
In no time, for sure,
As if Nature is about
To blow her bugle of war.
Here's an Indian Summer day
As a mixture of seasons play
Warm sunshine, no need for a coat
Colored leaves still dangle and float
Patches of green grass and flowers,
Aren't waiting for snow showers
Reflections of Summer and Fall
Wrap around the pine trees, so tall
Now, underneath the skies so bright,
November brings us a warm night
Heidi Sands
11/5/22
Indian summer
hot and muggy September
grass growing slowly
written September 19, 2021
It's early October and everything's changing.
The leaves, they’ve been turning the color of fire.
They dance on the branches, then fall with abandon,
Releasing their hold on their earthly desire.
Another transition occurs on the inside.
I'm turning the page for it’s time to read on,
Ignoring the chapters of life's disappointments
That litter my past like those leaves on the lawn.
I'll sit in my bedroom alone in the darkness
And fumble some chords on a Spanish guitar,
Remembering holding your hand with affection,
Recalling again just how pretty you are.
It's early October and everything's changing.
This mid-Autumn weather's a fickle thing, too.
But Indian Summer will always be welcome
When blue skies and sunshine remind me of you.
~indian summer~
indian summer
apple crisp yawning first light ~
amber moonrise nights
cozy mellow sunshine
warm pumpkin spice afternoons ~
yellow cornfields doze
sleepy vineyards dream
reveries of maize and gold ~
twilight lullabies
drowsy fields of wheat
harvest glows in pumpkin hues ~
autumn’s balmy breath
9-15-21
Contest: Hello September
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Be not faint-hearted
Ere winter's cold winds appear
Indian Summer
Written September 10, 2021
WINTER’S INDIAN SUMMER-
indian, early
cold winters and warm summers
process of the suns
6/16/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Every summer, there were always places
In which we slumbered together.
I once believed it’d all be lost forever.
No matter, however, we’ll always be together.
Be it through mine poems alone,
Or when all of the people gather,
Like all of the tribes I once ever known.
breaking out t-shirts
in November of all months...
unbelievable
Date written: 11/22/2020
indian summer
where a little, clouds crisp flies
warm air partly the
~
indian summer
reaches tender, loons obscured
beautiful winter
~
so warm December
beautiful winter season
indian summer
2/1/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
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