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john-k-trainerPoems
The chill of an autumn morning A rising steam as the fallen leaves exhale The lonesome trees have given up their glory A carpet of red, yellow, orange, and brown An overcast sky with no definition Is but a blur Movement indiscernible There is wisdom in the sky, revealed to a few The smoke of the day’s first fire ascends Wafting its familiar fall fragrances Brings warmth and comfort to the soul And campsite memories of long ago We pass the bleak and barren cornfield Stippled with autumn’s harbingers The Raven They stare with the blackest of black eyes
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Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
Autumn Morning
The chill of an autumn morning A rising steam as the fallen leaves exhale The lonesome trees have given up their glory A carpet of red, yellow, orange, and brown An overcast sky with no definition Is but a blur Movement indiscernible There is wisdom in the sky, revealed to a few The smoke of the day’s first fire ascends Wafting its familiar fall fragrances Brings warmth and comfort to the soul And campsite memories of long ago We pass the bleak and barren cornfield Stippled with autumn’s harbingers The Raven They stare with the blackest of black eyes
#poetry#fall#dark#autumn#raven
john-k-trainer
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john-k-trainer
122/M
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
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