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Annie's First Blog Post

Let's have a Go At This!

Hewitt Pond, Raynham

When I was walking

Through the storm-battered woods,

the softly blurred swirls of rain-ruined leaves

began to speak of their final, fractured journey toward the end.

Yes, they lingered just a little too long,

proudly strutting across the glimmering, golden stage.

Finally, the furious, fiery russet reds

have taken one last bow

and drifted toward the earth's embrace.

They tell me that this is what they were born to do,

as they hunker down into a magnificent mash to feed the soil,

plumping tiny seeds and slender

roots until they break through

their blanket and stretch toward the sky.

"But this won't happen for a while", they warn.

It is time to rest and the calming

cold will lull us to sleep.

"Depend on it", they whisper.

And then,

I am alone again. --- Annie Prescott

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1 commentaire

Louise Motta
Louise Motta
21 avr. 2023

🌹Lovely poem. Thank you for sharing it.

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