Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Season's End

There is a sense of mourning in Autumn.
The last fiery color before the cold and gray
when Autumn reaches out to those around her,
desperate to connect
before the veil comes down--
before everything changes
and she is

(Thanks to Pandora of "Poetry & Creative Expressions" for the inspiration.)

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

we reach the summit
as we crest the hill
the ground
becomes slippery
under our feet

I reach out
and with the awful clarity
of a moment
frozen in time
I realize that
I am grasping
at dandelions--
tenuous and insubstantial

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

We walk, wondering
at the blossoming creation surrounding us.
Each tree going to seed,
each flower in its created vigor.

As we crest the hill
it becomes ice
under our feet

I reach out instinctively
and realize with the panicked clarity of frozen time
that flower has gone to seed.

early morning
giving way to stifling day
the fog lifts

early morning


Saturday, September 13, 2008

The angel of God
sails through the trees
ripping off the branches
in his wake
changing the landscape
of my life
Poems © Gemma W. Wilson