The seasons converge in Autumn; Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall. September, October, November and December come together. Snow, sunshine, birth and death happen. The wind blows, or doesn’t blow, and what we know for sure is that which we don’t know, in the face of uncertainty. We feel sadness, happiness, hope and despair. One is irrelevant, without the other.
…the moon is the guiding light. The air is crisp, birds are none to be found. Autumn hangs on, like the last leaves to fall. Muted green of olive bushes, alone reflect golden beams. The clock has spent its time. Alas! the days are longer, the light is stronger, and winter won’t be far. Sleep deeply under the evening stars.
What brittle has fallen from tree to ground?
Sprigs in a white snowy sea as
Shadowy limbs face northeast.
Branches flounder and drift northwest.
Treading and losing breath
Wind spent and shipwrecked twigs, creaking and breaking
Submerging and reemerging, gasping for air
Like dolphins in a ghostly powdery wave where no one goes.
By Georgianna Marie
Photograph by Dave Dreimiller
by Walter de la Mare
Clouded with snow
The cold wind blows,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun,
Day’s journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Thick draws the dark,
and spark by spark,
The frost fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the White moon.
At the end of the day
There’s another day dawning
And the sun in the morning is waiting to rise
Like the waves crash on the sand
Like a storm that will break any second
There’s a hunger in the land
There’s a reckoning still to be reckoned and there’s gonna be – to pay
At the end of the day!