Season end

the morning


scents of

crisp cold


days to



Apples ripe

now summer’s


just a dream;


sun drenched



supper under

August moon


wine & song;

back then


it seemed

that laughter’d


never end.



cherry tree


has lost

her glow,



roll in:


for you

&  me


another year

plucks with








autumn mist

&  memories.




2 thoughts on “Season

  1. Randy Lusk says:

    Beautiful. Still a month away from feeling Autumn’s arrival here…104 today. Am reminded of Verlaine’s poem:

    Les sanglots longs Des violons De l’automne Blessent mon cœur D’une langueur Monotone. Tout suffocant Et blême, quand Sonne l’heure, Je me souviens Des jours anciens Et je pleure; Et je m’en vais Au vent mauvais Qui m’emporte Deçà, delà, Pareil à la Feuille morte.


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