Some rust colored leaves now float in the breeze
escaping in flight from late Autumn freeze
Among the dark corners, wintery cold
now starts to digest the leaves as they molt
The footsteps of Winter come with a dread;
we'd much rather paint the Autumn
instead
With colors of yellow, orange and deep red;
the forests become a colorful bed
Since snow has arrived, there's white on the ground
The winds starts to whip and smother all sound
No longer are birds still chirping in trees
They've headed down South to higher degrees
So, what's left behind there under the frost?
and how is it useful? What does it cost?
The price is not money; can't be acquired
Fall's already gathered wood for its fire
We'll bask in the warmth and watch through the grate;
and know that the winter holds the spring's fate
We watch from the frosty windows inside
the joys and the sorrows winters provide
But, soon we decide to venture outside
to see for ourselves that autumn has died
But what we can't see is new life below
that's sprouting and spurting loudly, you know
Appearing in Spring are blossoms and fruits
that sprang from inside their underground roots
The other day saw the ice form a crack
We'll soon be observing birds coming back
First come pretty robins; eggs royal blue
The males have their red breasts puffed out anew
As seeds and red berries beckon their tongues;
so full of good cheer, they trill with their lungs
There's only one reason robins can feed;
because life in winter sprouted from seed
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Author Notes
We have a pair of robins that live in our olive tree. They forage on grubs in the grass. But they also eat seeds, cherries and berries.
Thank you for reading my poem.
I found the photo on the internet.
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