The days of the month follow in a pattern
Shuttled one after another… what’s next?
Never entertaining a change of arrangement
Notations remind of activities that are exed
Backward and forward…reverse and advance
Watch the changing season… flip calendar pages
As the delicate petals of the red roses fade
Listen as leaves bleed through autumn stages
Yellows, reds and orange turning into mulch
As the gander flies southward and the V departs
The leader instinctively guides straight ahead
To warmth… prompted by a beating of the heart
Pulsating with endurance until dampened by rain
Flowing into the rivers advancing to open gates
Wakening to the smells of familiar recollections
Letting go of the numbness of numbered dates
3/2/08
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mother nature has no concept of the calendar she writes her own timetable to that we must adhere and enjoy for she is the embodiment of our existance, lovely write Theresa 10 love Chris x