The coolness of the north wind whispers of winter...
a few scarlet leaves cling to the maples,
yellow and orange to the oaks, while others fly
and dance in the brisk November breeze.
A few goldenrods still stand out in swaths
from a yellow paint brush across the cinnamon
landscape- where tall brown grasses gently sway,
like a rippling sea of windblown waves rolling
ever onward to crash on distant sandy shores.
See how they stretch; saffron blossoms reaching for the sky,
as if longing for the last lingering kiss of the sun
in the prelude of winter's icy embrace.
About the Creator
Janice Mathis
A Poet is: A seeker of quiet solitude, searching for a moment's peace
to capture a few coherent words from a chaotic mind
and a tortured soul. I am a Poet
~Janice Mathis~
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Comments (2)
I like how your poem is holding on to the last days of fall before winter hits.
Beautiful work, Janice! And welcome to Vocal! I really enjoyed this description: A few goldenrods still stand out in swaths from a yellow paint brush across the cinnamon landscape 🤩