in shushed shuffles
of weather beaten
sound,
swirling around
the feet of trees
whipping
up the faint aroma
of decaying leaves
that ride on their backs
with the breeze
moving spectrums
falling
in burnt hues
that warm and reach
muscles, held tight
in inhallation
a breath, that takes
you to this
almost forgotten
freshness, deep
within lungs and lingers
for a moment,
before it brings
exhallation-
a breath that hangs
breaking chilled air
filtered through
broken sunlight as it
trickles past, the arms
of Oaks and Hickory's,
illuminating autumn.
Copyright ©2005
Lovely Adrienne, you've caught the muted sounds well throughout, thanks for sharing a gentle moment
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is beautiful poetry...well done