Late Summer Meditations II

One golden leaf translucent from the sun, nearly transparent, a thin remembrance of prior glories. Is it stuck in the tree avoiding the final fall, the fall of no return? Or is it only last years’ forgotten memories of brilliance?

The wind shifted and the leaf finally did fall. I couldn’t help lifting up a prayer for the ending of summer, and the beginning of autumn. Let us begin again.

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Colors Will Speak to Us

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Within our survival, our wordflow can shift and change,

leaving us with a thin layer of grey,

yet the colors will speak to us….

calling forth that ancient mystery,

of poets pulling down inspiration,

from the sky.

Hope brightens

with the morning sun.

      

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies