The coming rain
With the clouds silent path,
Speaks quietly of change.
Rustling trees.
Steady flagpole ropes flapping,
Moving steady and sure,
Blanketing the sky,
Spreading wide
and filling with darkness.
Holding promise
for thirsting flowers
And dying grass.
Whetting desire for rebirth
Before the season's end.
(9.11.7 Observations)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, Heather, many changes are in store now. I love autumn as it seems to tie up the loose ends for us to end the year and get ready for spring. I enjoy writing poems about the seasons. Very nice! Marilyn