Put me in the shade in the middle of the day
Because I don't like the way the light hits my face
But in a light breeze when things aren't so hot
And there are clouds overhead in little white spots
Thats when I feel like I'm living the most
Because life is mostly sunny with a hint of the cold

winter warfare
torments our dwellings brickwork
night of casualties
aggressive plague on my dreams
wakes me  to be visited

Sitting at my desk, staring out the window,
Looking through the woods of leafless trees,
As the seasons change, there is always,
A new picture to, admire and see.
The green summer colors, have changed,
To the fall & winters, dormant brown,
The fallen seeds, waiting to germinate,
When the warm spring air, wakes them up,
They rise and grow, never making a sound.
The birds fly south, so patient, in a V,
They each wait their turn, flying in front as the lead.
As the squirrel’s, bury their nuts, to supply their winter feed.
Today’s, temperature is hovering around forty degrees.
About time to lay down my pencil, go outside, blow some leaves.
Humans are a part of nature,
Not as hard as the wood, of an old oak tree,
Mother nature, is a best friend, for without, we would not be,
Everyday, take time, visit outside nature, Thank God,
For the beautiful planet, he created for our soul to visit, and see.
One of many stops along our way, leave your toys inside,
Get your hands *****, listen to the peace, of nature’s sound,
Healthier than you realize, those items you cherish,
You constantly carry around, have many more germs,
Than in the dirt, that makes up the ground.
                                        The Original: Tom Maxwell © 12/09/2023 AD

Trees bleed crimson in protest
Before the wind drowns out their last, dying breath.
I walk through the barren orchard,
Marveling at their grand, glimmering display of defeat;
Their bodies torn apart by the sky's frosty breath.
I am but a lone red blade dancing out
stamping out
my frail stem.
A fiery ballerina on ecstasy.

mittened hands wrapped
around hot choc mugs
light-hearted bickering
over the tones and shades
of leaves yet to fall
chilly sun-streaked mornings
of fresh earthy air
and early hibernation nights
of gathered quietude
that indulgent autumn
for which she longed
seemed not to arrive
at least not as expected
set to follow the bright
bustling summer excitement
always written to precede
the forward-looking days
of winter's introspection
ordained as it was
by the dictums of old
those of time and tide
instead her blooming
has been a wearisome
back-and-forth between
the extremes of each
untimely and unexpected
yet unfortunately necessary
before she might witness
those flowers of hers
blossoming under
the warmth and light
of that newly shining Sun

Summer wears a gauntlet green
in Autumn rusted patches can be seen
Winter swaps for stout grey wool
to keep his fingers warm
Spring a stripper's emerald glove
when ready to perform

The sticks and stones
of ancient bones
are seen beneath the skin
a mushroom scented dying
as the year is growing thin
sing requiem for Autumn
so that Winter may begin