An Ovation to the Wind

Clay and stones, made moist with dew
Make for a fine rind of Autumn paints
To coat the skirting of the Tree.
The Tree stands firm,
Forgiving of the lash and bite of frosted rains.
Generous to the bird and beetle,
That harbour at its breast.
In the season, it clings to every leaf that
Is gently tugged upon
And, when ready, it aims the array,
And releases a fall of browned, rich hands,
An applause to the grey-cast clouds,
A farewell to the fading grasses,
An ovation to the wind, that whistles
Sweetly through the boughs.


Danielle K. Day

Since it’s technically Day 4 and I’ve only got three poems up, I’ve done another one today. ^_^



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s