The cool air slips
Through the morning window
Rests its hand
On my warm neck
And passes on

Here the deep
Longing begins
That comes  with spring
The unbearable pull
That is the teasing echo
Of footsteps
Walking into mist
Always receding
Never reached

Is it the reverberation
Of an unknown guilt?
That, like peeling bells
Cupped to an ear
Die across a meadow

He is forever on the horizon
A perfect and endless
Breaking dawn
Of grief and joy

What happened to the little boy
that I once knew so well?
He’d greet each new day with unfettered joy
and wave the last one farewell.

When oaks and maples began to turn
and the leaves had started to fall
the boy happily switched the TV on and yearned
for the return of his game of football.

Somewhere along this growing boy’s way
he became a great deal like me:
I wake and walk to the mirror today
to see where that boy used to be.

Now I cling to every last leaf
that falls from the branches up high
while stretching the days that are now too brief
as the winter comes rapidly nigh.

Fragrant breeze whispers,
Blossoms bloom in vibrant hues,
Nature's symphony.

          Golden sun shines bright,
          Warm rays caress sun-kissed skin,
          Summer's vibrant dance.

               Leaves ablaze with gold,
               Crisp air whispers change is near,
               Autumn's dormant song.

Snowflakes drift and fall,
Icy winds howl through bare trees,
Winter's stark beauty.

©️Lizzie Bevis

old man scatters dry leaves
chasing a 'dame'
spying    i become a child

In the hush of cool autumnal dusks,  
the sleepy world slows down,  
and crisp golden leaves  
scatter over the ground.  
The sky now dons
a cloak of twilight grey,  
as the nipping breeze begins to play.  

The streetlamps flicker, their glow a guide,  
as nightfall blankets the countryside,
and families gather at home  
by the warm fireside,  
while the scent of baked apples
with cinnamon flows,  
and a hearty stew simmers on the stove.  

After a warming dinner, laughter is shared,  
and in the heart of the home,  
hot cocoa is prepared  
while the children play games,
building forts from cushions
their giggles ring clear,  
filling the room with joy and cheer.

As the hour grows late, tiredness spreads,  
and soft heavy eyelids
remind them it's time for bed.  
The embers crackle softly,
as the evening grows quiet,
and worn out children yawn and sigh
as November evenings slowly drift by.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Nature's Retreat

My heart sings songs parallel to the dance of rain
Where lyrics speak true to nature's mighty chorus
Of colorful leaves burned from early frost
Where green becomes gold and gold turns to red
And the animals, both big and small, hurry to get to bed

My heart speaks to these changes all around me
Embracing Fortuna as if she were my mother
Wishing that I, like the leaves, could also fall and be free
Released from loose bonds that sway with but a breeze
From mighty ******, third of his name, God of the wind
Who that deceitful Juno deceived, to blow steadfast
Aeneas away from hearts true love, to a bigger purpose
His own Goddess to please

Yet... It was not to be for me
Too strong were the currents from that vengeful Neptune
Who then commanded blue Oceanus to summon the monstrous gray Charybdis
Pulling down on the brown oars of my life, seeking to consume
That which I thought mine, as if spoken by an Oracle,
A future as free and varied as a rain soaked forest in fall
Before all falls to rest within the spiteful white teeth of winter
Leaving me to dance in the decay of nature's retreat

I then cry with Terra Mater, reminding her of the days
Where our hearts sang and we spoke in hushed whispers
Excited for the seasons change and the chance to rest
Yet... I am not prepared to say goodbye to her
Her beauty, to me, shines brighter than burning Sol
Me, a moth to her flame, is lost when she is away
Tormented by the memories of life living only to die
An endless cycle of pain that numbs the days spent waiting
For spring to rise once again and refresh my heart
From the desolation of the icy purgatory
And empty forests, skeletal in appearance,
A drab contrast to the songs of revival and lush trees
That are a favorite of the myriad dryads and nymphs
Whom orchestrate the natural melody of the Earth
While patiently awaiting my summer heat

I miss them like I will her, for soon I shall fall like the rain
Patiently awaiting my rebirth so that I might dance with her again

The one flower
Outside the window
Has turned to dust.