Something Creative

summer barely breached the horizon when

fall gusted in, filled with swirling leaves–

unchanged yet into the brilliant colors that

herald their death; early snow in great fat

flakes, silent white birds clouding the

sightscape. Twilight comes, tangled

pink in the golden tamarack; crisply

blown arctic air flings itself against

the shrouded sliver of moon, lady of

mystery peers down.  All the wonder

of life here in the North, rugged cliffs

and forests call out in a final deep

sigh before Hypnos & Morpheus

return in the cold of winter’s embrace.

Posted via web from becci’s posterous