Winter
Winter pushes in
like a playground bully
shaking trees
of their golden attire
with reds afire
fighting to hang on.
Burrows dug deep
under wings filling
like smoke the skies
to escape the brute’s
full reign.
Winter pushes in
like a playground bully
shaking trees
of their golden attire
with reds afire
fighting to hang on.
Burrows dug deep
under wings filling
like smoke the skies
to escape the brute’s
full reign.
poem by Dave Holloway
This reminds me of a poet who belived there was no more color in his words. Could he write? Would he write? It was the winter of his poetry.
ReplyDeleteThe beautiful color softens the blow of this inevitable end
Nicely done!!!