A Short Garden Poem
Poet - Laura Lee Randall
A sunset sky, and the west wind sighing,
A threat of winter . . . The wild gulls crying;
Swift flocks of birds to the southland winging;
Bare brown boughs in a frenzy flinging
Dying leaves that for long were holden,
Now driting, dropping, crimson and golden.
The fallen leaves, in uncounted number,
Are warmly quilting the wildflowers’ slumber;
There are buds on the bough...a springtime presage…
The birds will return with a lyric message:
The wild gull’s cry holds a hint of mating,
To conquer cold is the hearthfire waiting.
The west wind’s sighs are of love, not sorrow,
And the sunset sky is the sign for tomorrow.
More verses about autumn:
Autumn arrives in the early morning,
but spring at the close of a winter day.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Every season hath its pleasures;
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.