Autumns End

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  • Nature

    Autumns End

    The splender of pastel reds, blending orange and shades of yellows;
    what beauty are the maple leaves, drifting about upon pine needle pillows. Sun arising in a faded blue altering stratosphere; peering into dull ashen clouds, shedding gleaming beams through the holes like tears. The chill so clinging in the moist morning air; settles down covering grasses the branches and beaded droplets on a coastal pier.
    The scuffling activity from the creatures burrowing deep and below; preparing for the survival with frigid fluffs of white glistening snow.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    cherokeewind51’s Poems (7)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    An Open Heart 2
    If Only A Hint 1
    I Thank You 2
    (To nobody) A Tale of Hollowed Darkness 1
    Natures Song 1
    Autumns End 0
    Seasons Blend 2