waking up to the birds chirping
the sun peeking through the trees
there really is no better feeling
than that of a soft spring breeze

With an autumn breeze
Wafts of leaves swish and swing
From trees to debris as fall brings in the insatiable cold comes the running nose just
As we drip the facet or hose to keep the pipes from froze. I send my head into the sky as something somehow shuts my eyes and I season the air with allergens spewing the unseen into the light making the invisible visible.

Sparkling, silvery, shades of grey.
Skin, shivering, brain of dismay.

Trees, trancing, bare naked sky.
Patiently, pondering, preparing to fly.

Wind, whistling, a dancing swoon.
Sounds, serenading a sparkling moon.  

Secret , system of the seasons.
The rhythm of winter needs no reasons.

Seasonal affective disorder,
Justify this infective inorder.

the arching arboretum anticipates my alliterations
telling too timeless tales of Latin language
binomial botany begins by being barbarously bleak
dioecious dogwoods dance doing dainty droops
leaves lie lamely, larking like sweet starlight shine.

oh, the fire with its dancing beams
welcomes each morning with hues so bright,
engorges as the globe circumnavigates,
fading, dissolving, with approaching night.

the clouds play tag with the ball of gas:
covering, as curtains - some thin, others thick.
mighty Cumulonimbus precedes the drops;
delicate Cirrus wisps are the sky’s speckled pick.

the forests serve as shadows for all the horizon:
redwood to palm, soaking up a meal
from the glowing radiations that branch out;
the rooted ground is theirs to steal.

the species of the world adapt to its clock.
majestic elephants roam while the glows remain,
and owls wait for the blackness to settle;
everything in its path is cured of their pain.

Trees are tall their leaves fall,
We look them up and down and see beauty,
The vision of growth and strength in the overpowering Branches,
There are funny little shaped trunks,
They are claimed they are hugged,
They are drawn and sawn,
Trees are our friends when we let them be,
Trees contain the destruction,
In mother nature's grace,
We love the trees all the same because they give us space.

Slowly fall
The teardrops of the rain,
Slowly into the lake.
Slowly comes September,
As always,
Slowly clasping its hands around us.
Slowly the trees transform
Into ghosts,
Slowly the apples fall and rot,
And the pumpkins, slowly too,
Grow and mature.

Autumn comes slowly.
We feel it in the
Nights and in the wind
Growing colder and colder.
Slowly summer came and left.
And now,
We are left with what
We always had,
Not much:
Two warm hearts
Holding each other,
Two minds content
With time well spent,
Despite the changing times,
Despite September.