The Backyard Poet
It is only the first day of your birth, yet you have already sent your color into the vines that cover the fence. As summer dances to a final song, you darkened the sky and hurled your dampness down from the heavens. You sprinkled the night air with the shiver of change. You are not death, but you are the final gasps of life. So fling your hue across the world and let me drink you in before the silence and stillness of winter turns me to stone.
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Every Heart Has A Story.
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Poetry, Fiction, Essays & Art by M.P. Powers
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Omg! Freaking amazing.
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‘You are not death, but you are the final gasps of life’
This one line is as beautiful as the best haiku.
The whole piece is an exquisite ode to a seasons change, by a soul that sees and feels the very pulse of nature.
Thank you Jerry.
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Thanks Nigel.
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Omg! This is freaking amazing.
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Thank you. I am glad you liked it. I am humbled.
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Welcome, autumn!
Your word-pictures are vivid and evoke emotion.
What kind of plant is that, Jerry?
(((HUGS))) and Happy Saturday! 🙂
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I’m not sure. It was there when I moved in. I will attempt to find out for you.
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