Conception
Yesterday,
the rustic multicolored foliage was scattered about the ground; basting and glistening beneath the tamed fall sun, taking their rest.
The long days of summer had been harsh on them. For they had entered it, green and lavish; Chorographically dangling from the branches of enormous oaks and maples...and birches, too, perhaps.
But time and temperature had tapered them.
Today, they are motionless.
Dismantled from the spotlight of summer's stage. The ground is cool.
Soon, comes their burial blanket.
And above, jubilant souls shall shuffle about, oblivious of the dancers stilled beneath them, from which their winter wonderlands
were conceived.
Copyright © Carol Bowen-Davis | Year Posted 2022
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