Thursday, December 23, 2021
CYCLES A POEM OF THE SEASONS
Trees are bent with apples red,
Farmers' fields are turned and tired.
It's cold, with gray clouds overhead.
Soon the snow will lay a blanket,
On grass and road, on farmer's field.
Within a white and silent shroud,
The world will be quite shortly sealed.
Yet, in the home, as in a man,
A fire will burn, a song will sound.
Life will let the Winter pass,
Until, at last, the Spring comes round.
The geese shall change their clothes once more,
As hills put on their yellow flowers.
Farmers' fields will all turn green,
As white clouds rain down April showers.
On through Spring and into Summer,
'Til the first act of the Winter play,
Fields and geese trimmed round about,
With apples red, and feathers gray.
Labels: Autumn, donovan baldwin, fall, poem about seasons, poetry, spring, summer, winter
Tuesday, August 07, 2018
Poem - Late Spring
By: Donovan Baldwin
The trees have not sent out new leaves
Although the snow declines to fall.
It should be green and spring by now,
But, the clouds above pretend to be,
Prepared to drop white crystal flakes...
Surprising from such filthy rags.
Perhaps the trees have eyes which see,
And fear the fate of tender leaves,
If the clouds make good their promise...
Trees may be smarter than we think.
The trees have not sent out new leaves
Although the snow declines to fall.
It should be green and spring by now,
But, the clouds above pretend to be,
Prepared to drop white crystal flakes...
Surprising from such filthy rags.
Perhaps the trees have eyes which see,
And fear the fate of tender leaves,
If the clouds make good their promise...
Trees may be smarter than we think.
Labels: clouds, donovan baldwin, poem, poetry, snow, spring
