Dug up an old poem of mine while anticipating the coming season.
I Wait for Colors
I wait for sun to glisten on leaves
that stretch to feeding rays
for rain to allay the heat that sears resplendent lands
as sun fades to orange
So I can behold sunset, instead of dawn
I wait for colors to alter and fall
and vindicate soil with a berth of leaves from advancing frost
for gray to intrude upon the sky
as stems turn to brown
So I can watch the trees grow bare, instead of twilight
I wait for snow to blanket the bed of foliage
and overlay terrain under blizzard blankets
for land and blooms to be shrouded
as stars and breath are clearly revealed and clearly cold
So I can sleep indoors, instead of on leaves
I wait for loose earth to exhale bubbles
of pale seedlings and shooting tendrils
for white blooms to raise
the frost back to drape across the sky
So I can delight in daybreak, instead of slumber
