An absolutely wonderfully autumnal poem, from one of my favourite poets. Please give her blog a visit, you won’t regret it.
It is winter, isn’t it
When frost bites
The last fruits
Upon the vine
Lost to another time
And snow lay
In blankets
Upon the branch
The bitter cold
Trips in the wind
And ravages
What is left
Brown edges
Whisper
Of decay
And nectar,
Once sweet
Now dry
And dying
Only to become
The seed
That plants
Tomorrow’s harvest.
When frost bites
The last fruits
Upon the vine
Lost to another time
And snow lay
In blankets
Upon the branch
The bitter cold
Trips in the wind
And ravages
What is left
Brown edges
Whisper
Of decay
And nectar,
Once sweet
Now dry
And dying
Only to become
The seed
That plants
Tomorrow’s harvest.
© Sumyanna 2016
charles1958 