Green is the grass
that grows in my garden
black and brown are the birds
dotted around the place
they land feeding on worms
sometimes a splash of colour
when one sees something different
out of the corner of the eye
a branch of hope
beacon of the skies
Robin on my porch
in autumn time still singing
sunny afternoon
Grey days
lead to contemplation
to find a place
when sunny days have gone
where the weather warmed the soul
as the heart beats freely
that feeling of spring
when autumn days have come
to darken the horizon
as winter is here again
toad in the corner
hidden away from the light
autumn wind blows cold
In springtime they flower
In summertime they bloom
In autumn they fall
In winter they are gone
if we could talk to birds
what would they say
would it be the arrival of spring
each twittering chatter
a whistle or two
heading into summer
such commotion
and synchronicity
as we fall into autumn
are they still with us
the weather becoming colder
in winter time
In front of me
was a leaf frog
Passing me by
a grey path
Crisscrossing pattern
green/brown
Autumn leaves,
crunch under my feet.
Their disheveled shapes,
fallen cries.
Each tree, shakes off
its branches, in the wind.
As the season turns
and the weather changes.
Our paths become,
that of one,
who is lost in colour
and cannot change.
The Golden Tears 