There's a tree-lined block I walk through almost daily A week ago awash in the vibrant hues of fall There's a tree-lined block I walk through almost daily Now there’s little hint of autumn at all Today gnarled gray fingers claw At dark clouded slate skies In quiet desperation holding on Today gnarled gray fingers claw At dark cloud-dotted slate skies Their gold and ruby jewels nearly gone In the ever shortening daylight of autumn I watch one such jewel lazily drift It felt as if watching a tear fall in defeat In the ever shortening daylight of autumn I watch one such jewel lazily drift To its final resting upon the concrete The darkening slate skies Matching the charcoal streets A hint of winter's chill viewed The darkening slate skies Matching the charcoal streets And my worsening mood
Feeling the first hints of winter’s chill this week is not making for a happy Raivenne. Missing Victoria’s weather prompt for Poetics by an hour, didn’t help, so I’m feeding two birds with this one.
Weather You Like It, or Not! dVerse Poetics
Awww, I can understand the gloom… beautifully captured – and the repetition gives that seasonal feel – autumn coming round again, yet another leaf falling, another chilly day. Good use of alliteration as well.
You paint such a clear picture of November. It’s fortunate for you that the leaves have fallen before snow comes. Ours came before autumn had finished its work and the weight of the snow along with the leaves broke off so many tree branches and even took down trees. Lovely descriptions.
Oh what darkness we are left with after that last year has fallen.. Much the same hear… Shiver
I can see those charcoal skies and shorter days here too ~ Yikes, bracing myself for winter ~
The repetition works beautifully…
You have drawn a very clear picture of the changes taking place at this time of year! One day beautiful color and within a short time bleak and bare. Really a thoughtfully penned poem.
Black leafalls now
on concrete streets
what comes next..
sAnd now liVes..
A great piece of earth.. One question, where’s the little fluffy, Rabid squirrel —Smile— You do write within the lines and paint beautiful pictures.