Old Seasons Die

Written for:  Miz Quickly - Day 14 - The Falling Line
Cascade Form - "Write a line that can bear repetition."

Piles of leaves ready to sweep
Some still sport bright hues.
Most crunch underfoot
bringing Winter near.

Looked out at backyard heap
knowing what I'll have to do.
I could not read my book,
piles of leaves ready to sweep.

Garaged my garden statues, deck is bare.
My dogs eagerly wait for snow. At least
then tree branches will look festive.
Some still sport bright hues.

Changing of seasons impact
me.  Looking out, I'm sad.
Black leaf-filled bags at curb.
Most crunch underfoot.

See the sky, fading to pale blue
over beaches cold and empty now.
Squirrels and chip monks gather food,
bringing Winter near.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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6 Responses to Old Seasons Die

  1. You understood the form differently to me but I love what you’ve done. The transitional seasons are full if poetry, aren’t they?


  2. Misky says:

    Do your dogs eat the snow? Mine always did. I swear, if you left her to her own devices, she’d clear a path to the road. 😂


  3. Jules says:

    Poetic License is a card all poets should carry 🙂
    I like what you did too.


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