These Few Hours

Winter light is soft in the south
glowing gas flame red,
day breaking with a cold chill,
the ground covered in leaves
as the sweet gum and maple
shed their summer coats
for the descent into root,
the dying desire
for what comes and goes
passing without heat
into the rain soaked soil.
I let go with the breath of trees
what was mine for a season,
impossible as sand
and gone like sunlight,
harvesting these few hours
before falling into night.



These Few Hours


10 Responses to “These Few Hours”

  1. John Clinton Gray says:

    “…harvesting these few hours…” is an exquisite image!

  2. Perfect image for letting go at the end of a cycle.
    Thank you.

  3. Paul Blythe says:

    There spirits are arriving in the Southern Hemisphere!

  4. Paul Blythe says:

    Yes! It is already spring.

  5. Athena Coleman says:

    Graceful acceptance, how rare this is. This is beautiful, thank you for sharing this piece.

  6. Ann Cooper says:

    To every thing there is a season….a truly lovely reminder, Don.

  7. tom wilson says:

    Thanks, lovely poem.

  8. Jack says:

    ah, if we could all have a “dying desire for what comes and goes”……..beautiful image of this changing time, Don……

  9. Maria Frid says:

    I love this beautiful poem, Don. The image that “passing without heat”, evokes in me is of the continuum of life moving easily through the sequence of the seasons. How often, as human beings, our motions through life are so often full of emotional drama and hysteria………..people seeking attention and confirmation of their existence. Here, “I let go with the breath of the trees.” Stunning!

  10. so gentle and so loving, Don….a reminder to love what IS as the seasons change……

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