The dark grey sky paints a perfect backdrop
For the razor thin branches
As they are tossed back and forth
A steady wind gust barking orders at them
"Left! right! left! right!"
Leftover leaves are pasted on my window pane
Clinging to the glass as a last bastion of hope
Before drifting downward to join the others
Blanketing the ground like a fine Oriental rug
Woven from strands of dark brown and burnt orange hues
The sun is just starting to rise
Illuminating this blustery, savage morn
As the temperature drops, Mother Nature inquires
"Isn't this what you wanted?," she asks.
"Did you not complain about a sunny/71 yesterday?," she continues.
"Yes, Mother Nature," I reply. "Indeed I did."
No comments:
Post a Comment