As the autumn quietly abandons the forest,
slipping through the brush
whispering,
the trees become silent now
occasionally entertaining
a ghost
or a few lost leaves.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
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Category: autumn
Down by the Lake
We can see our breath now My Love, especially down by the lake,
and as we pull close silently
closing our eyes,
I can see the fog drifting
over the water,
as if there is a voice drawing us,
and the trees
are our witnesses
as we take off our gloves to hold hands,
loosing track of time,
staring then
into each other’s face.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, 2018, ancient skies
Spirit Wings Extended
My light, ignited by the colors of autumn,
spirit wings extended,
and the poems?
They simply write,
themselves
having learned how to fly.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
It Snowed Again Today
It snowed again today, winter surrounding the autumn flame. He put on his hat and coat, remembering his younger days running, falling down, sledding down Tucker’s Hill.
He just stood there, feeling the silence falling, even though he was older now, he suddenly had an idea, involving a trashcan lid and the thrill of sliding down – Grandma’s Mountain.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
In the Softness of the Autumn Sun
In the softness of the autumn sun, a quiet returns
to our hearts
an in between, a season
of twilight, of dreaming
where we remember gathering, holding onto,
yet a time of resting
to cease from striving,
even blankets wrapping us
in a feeling of safety, letting go
trusting the arms,
trusting the smile
of our lover
and the smell of apples
bringing wholeness
in the twilight.
We drift off again.
Autumn.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
We Stretch Out Our Hand
Thin veils of leaves dance in the autumn wind,
making it difficult to see and catch
the glory.
Buffeted, we can only guess
at how far our journey
will take us,
but we stretch out our hand anyway,
realizing hope is at least healthy
even if we are
misguided.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
In My Early November Morning
A light rain dampens the leaves as the sun washes the earth
with brilliant light crisping the colors,
my boots call me forward
in my early November morning.
I can see my breath now.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
