A Battled Sunday
nature’s whim …
The day wavers between a persistent sun
and the grinding wheels of winter’s turn,
and the tension fills the air, chilled,
as I look to the skies, dancing clouds streaking by,
our feathered friends in covert state,
found nooks and quietly in wait,
for the winds to take a break.
And leaves turned in and of crisper ilk,
rustle on vines, holding on until
those winds tear them from life
to carpet the streets,
like fields moving in waves complete,
of a beauteous death,
the transformation of nature’s whim.
Storm fronts move in so fast,
the blue now grey in aftermath
of sun’s pleasured will, if not momentary,
as the battle field in glorious passionate affront,
honor changed and to the last drop of blood,
the clouds fight for victory,
and season draws a line of demarcation.
I watch with hopeful eyes, an expectant rise
but chill is all there is, a dull surprise,
and winter it seems has snuffed what sun in struggle to last,
and tainted all remains, to victory;
and nestle down we must,
for season’s bleak and treacherous hand
has finally delivered at mother’s command,
this long winter plight.
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Winter does have a way of creeping in and claiming its boundaries, changing things sometimes in subtle ways, sometime rapidly. I kind of like that time of hunkering down and get cozy with warm sweaters and blankets as I take a winter nap. It is a time of quiet and a time of death in Nature. Very descriptive poem of that often dreaded change of season. You paint images so well with words, Tony. I enjoyed reading this post, made me want a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. You have a great skill of transporting your readers to other times. Amazing!
Very kind Phyllis, yes I don’t really mind the cold weather, but often I get miserable when its so dull all the time. But I can but write all those changes that nature inspires in we writers. So glad you appreciate my words. Take care.
In your words I felt the chill of winters approach. It always amazes me the way mother nature prepares for each change. We see her in the wind, clouds, trees, leaves, birds flight, groundhogs running about and all creature in storing moods, ready for the long sleep, they fill their bellies with natures delights. I love the Fall weather, but winter chill for aged bones, often curses us to the core. Our faces thin appear to fail the test of bitter winds upon them. Brrrrrr I say to winter folly, let the sunshine help peel back the lines on my face and pleasant memories bless my soul. Like the bear, I too will sleep and cast away the cold and bitter season of winter’s acid bitter chills. As always Tony, your descriptive verse, captivates your readers. Thank you, now I must throw another log on my fire:-))
Cheers Vincent, and here we are only approaching winter, but its icy fingers are already grasping through the luke-warm sun, and I ‘m not looking forward to the vengeful nights of freezing temps. In any case, nature’s cycles are mystical and magical and I do share the appreciation also; just putting up with the creaking bones. lol