Upon the blowing wind
lives my Autumn dreams.

With a delightful glee
my soul took flight
as the breeze stole
my heart.

The whispering pines
swooshed and bowed,
the dirt grew into
a foggy cloud, as
Autumn changed her
gown.

Greens turned brown,
purple, and deep red
as the leafs shimmied
to the chilled ground.

The shadows slowly lengthened
as the night creeped,
crawling beside the sun
before saying farewell
to his brother he kissed
the sky with his full moon smile.

The stars winked
and the sun swooned
as the moon stole the
hour.

© 2019 By Amanda Shelton

When the sky is shrouded
with darkness of expectation,
When the day is filled with
screams and abuses.

There comes the night
where misty eyes caress
the sleeping soul with immense love
depicting that, in the midst of darkness
of anger and frustration,
resides pure love which
still lingers around to keep the bond
strong enough and not to let it falter

A man in a field walks through a storm.
Snowflakes on his eyelashes blur his vision.
A man in a study believes in snow,
believes in the truth of snow.

A man leaves traces as he walks.
His tracks ornament the field’s blank.
He meanders, doubles back, evading,
leaves imprints that the snow erases.
A man walks. The snow falls.  

In a study, a man devotes himself to snow.
He reads from the book of snow.
He composes wintry axioms.
“Snow:  Atmospheric water vapor frozen into ice crystals
that drop on a walking man’s eyelashes
or lie blank in an unwritten field.

“Snow is a conflict,
a confusion, a yearning.
Letters are desire.
Margins are melancholy.”

The storm disappears.
A man squints at blurred words,
Resumes writing,
Shaking snow from the page.