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It is
those reds and violets which are so sure of
themselves
as the trees take turns
catching my eye
and then force me to return again
to see the black and grey
branches
weave their spell
among the few sunlit
yellow
leaves which
are left.
It is those same leaves now
lying
in the yard among the roots of the trees
and that sienna color of the bermuda grass
which makes me
rejoice that calm resolute kind of
rejoicing which
sniffs the winter air for that
little bit of sunlight
Copyright © 1998 by David Michael
Jackson,
All rights reserved
Send private comments to author: jackson@artvilla.com
Read the Poem Of Every So Often at http://www.artvilla.com