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
🌹Lovely poem. Thank you for sharing it.