Lines… Veins… Silky Strands… One red leaf on a green tree, Swaying all alone in the wind One red leaf falling through the chilled fall air Swirling in the twilight. A busy spider in the early hours of dawn, Silk webbing falling behind, Swirling strand, into lines, into web of silk. Twilight One red leaf is swirling, Falling it twirls one more time, A beauty… A web with one red leaf Intertwined in the silky strands. Taylor Nelsen, 11Greenville, North Carolina
Poetry-The-Seasons
Winter
I walk through the silent pasture to the tree swing. I sit down and start to swing. I close my eyes and fall into a silent sleep. When I open my eyes I see the ground is littered with leaves, acorns and plants of all kinds. I sit listening to the wind roar. I am not troubled. I just sit there watching waiting. Riley Grace Carlson, 9Franklin, Tennessee
Choir of Autumn’s End
Listen! Is that the calling of the hounds, The hounds returning? What wavering desolate horn is this that sounds, So much like the wild hunt’s baying? A trembling weary choir of voices From the chilly gray air. And they come, then, From behind the old, mound-like gray hill, A long-necked mourning choir on wings, Late geese. We are the last Honks their song And should have listened to the wind’s warnings. Now autumn is ended And winter’s wingbeats ruffle our tails. Gabriel Wainio-Theberge, 12Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
