the simplicity of a season

It's quite simple, really, how
the mornings just isn't as bright
as they were not two weeks ago and
how the nights seem to draw closer
and closer to noon

because there is no limit and no border
between the two (or four, six and fifty-
eight, depending on how you look at it),

still every year, surprise hits when it's
too cold to wear short sleeves,
when suddenly the ground is frozen one day
and your breath stand out as white clouds
in the closing-in-on-Christmas air

-but-still-not-quite as the frost leaves
for another week of rain and damp earthly
smelling ground, and you know it, deep
in your heart, that it is too simple
for charts and diagrams

it is simply the season of a fading year.




Poetry by muddy waters
Read 500 times
Written on 2006-05-03 at 15:52

Tags Fall 

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