The colour orange
has become the new black
graces the pavements
adorns stark cul de sacs.
Crisp carpets of sunshine
under feet clad in layers
icy wind sears the flesh
face the elements, one dares!
For the flyers a haven
nestled high in the trees
like a coven of witches
cackles mingle with breeze.
Would one swap for a fortune
the spectacle of hues
the glow of hearth fires
thawing fingers turned blue
to live like the Brown Bear
in oblivious slumber
to awake in the Springtime
a newborn, I wonder?
You wrote this poem a long time ago, but that is irrelevant because poems about the seasons are always N-O-W, in the moment. Your stanzas are a procession of essentials of the season: 1 - the centrality of the color orange, 2 - sunshine giving way to cold winds,3 - birds flocking preparatory to flight,4 - fiery fallen leaves outside/ fiery flames inside. Final Impression: this is the season which is often elusive, hides in winds of early winter, then reappears briefly as an Indian summer, and is now preserved and archived in Barb's poem.
Got me with: For the flyers a have... breeze. Rhythm is perfect here. Season poems are always a good write.
Dear Barb A picturesque description of Autumn. nice lines. Thanks I invite you to read my poems and leave some comments.
Autumn is probably the prettiest of the seasons, calm and tranquil, like the autumn of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem, like it.