Today a poem, more cheerful than the last one. I seem to be quite an angry poet, my soul has a lot to process and to say, but in quieter moments the words flow from a more peaceful place. This poem is one of those, written as I sat at the dining room table in a patch of warm sunlight, a few weeks ago, looking out over the back garden, in one of the first misty mornings of autumn.
The sun peers through the autumn mist.
Settling on the dew wet grass
Making it sparkle like jewels.
Tight buds on an optimistic rose, hold the promise of colour.
Will they open and show their blooms?
Or will the promised rain keep them
Cocooned in their buds.
Through the window, the sun is warm
But venture outside and the seasonal chill
Reminds you winter is on its way.
For now, we enjoy the sun,
Its warmth, its hope
Its memory of warmer days
Autumn is a time of change.
Shortening days, lengthening nights
Leaves all colours of green to golden yellow
A season of colour, painted in leaves.
Did the rose bloom?
Yes, the rain came but so too did the rose’s blooms. It had bloomed earlier of course, but someone said if I cut back the hips/seed heads, (not a gardener, new words to learn!) That the rose would bloom again. There have been ten new flowers on that rose. It was one of DH favorites, he would have liked to see them doing so well.
Sadly this theme doesn’t seem to support the paragraphs that I put in to divide the verses of the poem. Not sure why?
Thanks for reading, see you soon