Squirrels in the branches rustling the leaves,
Scurrying up the trunks of the horse-chestnut trees,
Lightly dancing through autumn’s browning shroud,
From branch to branch, thin branches bowed.
Hunting through the leaf litter, gathering the nuts,
Through the furrows, ditches and cuts,
Head on a swivel, survival’s a must,
Autumn’s bountiful harvest banked in trust.
The cycle of life roaring against the age,
Before winter arrives with its icy cold cage,
Transforming the landscape, hiding the bank,
Its fingers grasping, tugging the veil.
Where once existed deep reds, yellows and browns,
White has taken over and frosted the ground.
Many will live but others will perish,
Before springtide appears and winter is vanquished.
New life arrives in bitter green shoots,
And once again scuttling come reds and greys,
The gnawing, the nibbling, the reconnaissance of trees,
The cycle repeats as seasons march on.
S epia tones soon will turn to green
P romising their panoply of renewal
R andom blossomings perfuming the air
I ncremental offerings of nature's bounty
N orthern winds averted and rerouted
G iddy birds and bees punch drunk excited
F arewell to stubborn winter lingerings
E ffervescence bubbling to the surface
V eers toward a budding season of awakenings
E mbellishing a drowsy world with vivid colours
R uby coloured blooms shortly underway
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
brightest bulb shining
highlights trees with chill and dew ~
cold lemon canvas
(September Full Moon – Assiniboine)
Long.the mist had swaddled the woods
In rails of crystal white and gray -
Till dusk swiveled like a fleeting view:
Vanishing with the threadlike view
Oak treelines stood quiet along old woods ;
Of edges rough in deepened gray;
Trickles changed into ghastly gray
To usher winter's skeletal view ,
Pale nightglow pouring 'round bare woods.
Woods in gray...enshrouded by this blank view.
IN THE DOWNING OF SPRING
Autumn will soon fall;
Paving the way for winter’s
Cold nature of life:
Time for us to prepare for
Life’s cold-coming-challenges:-
cool northerly wind blows
brown leaves falling from the trees
days grow short nights long
Gold and ruby droplets
dripped
from the park's trees
that had once
glowed in green.
I drove along
the Cottonmill road
as I pulsated
with Autumn's bloodstream.
Summer's heat
was a dimming memory
as Autumn painted
fresh stories
with God's colors.
I pulled out
of the park
as nature's canvas
labored behind me.
Where the blast of winter goes,
snow and moisture always flow,
strikes the bush, the rock, the tree,
any building that stands free,
builds a protrusion of white,
like some sped-up stalactite,
ice-trails pointing with the wind,
staggered lengths of icy fringe,
bends the saplings with its weight,
stresses old trunks, some will break,
buildings grow a rounded form,
often look lifeless, forlorn.
Stark and sculpted is its work,
alien world on the earth,
just grows bigger over time,
the snow-mixed coatings of rime,
too much may even cause loss,
but it’s so fun to chip off…
four changing seasons
mother nature-father time
gifts given to us
royal maroon moon
topped with mountain marshmallow ~
cherries jubilee
(August Full Moon –Anishinaabe)
Blue rain taps the roof
Puddles hold the fading sky
Night folds into blue
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ the clock ¦¦¦¦ tells the time,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦¦ day sunk in ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ night;
¦¦¦¦ I behold the violet ¦¦¦¦ prime,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ all silver'd ¦¦¦¦ with white;
¦¦¦¦ lofty trees ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ barren of leaves
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ summer's green ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ up in sheaves
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ thy beauty ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ among ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ time must go,
Since ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ beauties ¦¦¦ themselves forsake
And die ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ as ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ others grow;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ 'gainst Time's ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ hence.
(Blackout of Sonnet XII by William Shakespeare)
The onset of Spring
my blossom eye
alert and foraging,
tastes the signs of budding
sweetness, a lick of the
lips, a fruity smile,
limbs a-trill with feathered
mating – lots of melodic
crooning...harmonizing pairs
choosing Vs of real-estate,
all is right with the season!
I'd rather fall at the hands of nature—
endure the whiplash from changing seasons,
be ransacked in storms erasing verdure
but not by crude loggers or their reasons.
In time to come, I might be metallic,
slip from imagination, unreal!
What is wood, this leaf, but an italic?
Who will append me to the holy grail,
will to elegize my lost symmetry?
Today has already begun with breeze
lilting foliage; fluttered melody,
transporting berries, bewitching degrees.
A caterpillar licks my face away,
and a worm is canceled by a blue jay.
As summer ebbs, a cooler breath will dart
as Autumn's vibe is felt in every heart.
For, by late August, changes will begin
as shorter days and longer nights sneak in.
This breath will sigh of brilliance in the trees,
as flowers fade and ripened orchards seize.
While crisper air dissolves the humid haze,
new glory soon replaces Summer's phase.
Oh yes, these Autumn breaths will swiftly flow
to form and paint new views of burnished glow.
Reshape the scenes that rose by Summer's sway,
and offer life to us another way.
When Autumn breath shouts, “welcome to my Fall,”
we will accept old Summer's curtain call.
Oh
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.