to everything…

to everything

there is a season


all night rain fell

even through this morning

slow and steady

gray thunder


above the soaked

rain valley

 this year’s leaves

those last ones

still perched

like  parchment songbirds

 on the tips of November trees

 look to the ground

-what a year it has been!

wind storm sunshine 



all that remains is

this last falling

this final drift

this gentle return

to lie upon good dark earth


comforting snow

to everything

there is a season



Written after an off day in the Ozarks.  It is the first poem I have written in a while.  The rain fell all night.  The beautifully colored house is warm. I sit at a kitchen table in a corner.   Gray light comes softly through the floating glass of four single mullion windows.


the Ozark Mountains

November 17, 2015

9:36 AM


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