The essence of hickory wafted high
o'er gatherings of naked treetops,
while the flailing of fragile limbs
from the infant Japanese Maples,
drew vex from those who had-
spent laborious time and passion
through Autumns fertile rains,
soiling, planting each verdant root
in expectance of Winters squalls.
Good Gardeners they be who do this,
and be lauded as such come April next.
They plan and plant by the comings of Spring,
these arborous Seers of Autumn bring.
©Frank James Ryan, Jr./ FjR
MMXVI-All Rights Reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully penned I feel the melancholy of |Autumn but the joy of Spring too Well penned piece Thanks