Crops are fat when summer is in last bloom,
daylight shortens and longer nights pervade.
As green leaves awaken with a reddish blush
geese fly south before northern winds invade.
The rutting season sets bucks on edge,
causing rival males to clash head to head.
Their pungent musky odor dominates,
calling their skittish does to be bred.
Cold snow is not the icy hand of death,
each flake's but a stitch in winter’s shroud.
Death comes in a blazing splash of color
like scarlet sunsets upon golden cloud.
Like flaming tongues of crimson fire
the leaves die from Jack Frost’s first fatal kiss.
Warm misty breaths sets frigid air steaming
into foggy swirls that brisk breezes dismiss.
The crunch of autumn sounds fill the air,
walking upon the newly dead and dying.
Skeletal branches scatter their dried foliage
and nature’s cycle ends with grey skies crying.
A contest entry
- TEN THOUSAND POINTS OF RHYME! (now 12,000) - Part 3 Nature by cricketjeff.
1000 points, ended December 17, 2007, 25 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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Just Amazing
..adding you to my favourites right this second
Fantastic Imagery, Such a pleasure to read your work. Thanks for sharing! -
Very Lovely Poem -- Excellent Writing
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It was hard to pick between your entries, this one was just about the best of the three but all three were terrific.
Please keep entering the other rounds, love is already underway.
Thanks for your entry we both enjoyed reading it
Jeff and Sue
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