The Evidence of Time (long version)

Nature and man's cycle go on...

Falling leaves smother

a stubby field,

grass and weeds

no longer living.

 

A creaking shed door

sways with the North wind,

rusty hinges playing

a melancholy song.

 

Picket fence bent with grey age,

sits starkly against an

austere Winter’s sky,

no sun will shine today.

 

The ice man comes

later in the day, beneath

twinkling skies that deny

early rain and snow.

 

Long icicles hang from

a frozen mailbox, its flag

pointed forever to the sky;

no mail will come this morn.

 

Coffee, frosted window panes,

sudden comes the warmth;

green sprigs poke through

hard-packed earth.

 

Jubilant leaflings rush

to warm long-bare branches,

as songbirds celebrate

the coming of Spring.

 

Worms loosen ground,

flowers smile suddenly;

snaking vines begin

their eternal journey.

 

Frozen creeks and ponds

return to water, phalanxes

of tadpoles swim in unison,

over rocks with moss and algae.

 

Young rabbits and bobcats

follow their mothers;

stopping to gaze at

each other; curious things.

 

The road revealed, mud-packed

and deeply rutted;

wandering through hills and dales,

the mail will run today.

 

Warm soup mug, splattered windows,

thawing nights and heated days;

signs of life everywhere, and the

sun reaches higher every day.

 

Dragonflies buzz over

canebrakes and puss willows;

bullfrogs croak their basso-profundos

late into the nights aside the pond.

 

A moon, bigger than it should be,

radiates midnight light;

howling wolves and screaming panthers

pay homage to the pursuit of prey.

 

Fresh paint here and there,

huge flowers rising

eight feet over the earth;

hot blue skies of heat.

 

Hummingbirds whirrrrrrrrrrrrrr

through the flowers of summer,

tree branches heavy with leaves

droop down towards their birth.

 

The golden grains of summer

wave in the heated winds;

a deer sniffs the air,

is there rain coming?

 

Rocks pushed aside

on gravel roads;

new ruts have entered, to

replace the old.

 

Dogs lay under porches,

and the mailman sweats

beneath his load, there is

always news to be delivered.

 

Ice in lemon juice,

cobwebs on flinty windows;

wind rattles panes as the sky

begins to change; blue in the North.

 

Leaves become rainbows, then

shower down over the gold and green;

transformation of life

into food for the earth.

 

The picket fence leans more,

and seems even greyer than it was;

the sun hugs the horizon and

warmth begins to seep away.

 

Overcast skies, chill in the air,

rain falls and creates mulch

from the fallen leaves

and the dead grasses.

 

Houses squeal with the wind,

and dogs lay close to stoves;

feeling pain in old bones that

had flexed during the summer.

 

The flowers, the hummingbirds, the crickets;

the cardinal, the blue jay, the mockingbird,

stay mute in the change of Fall;

and all is still for a while.

 

Wearing heavy coats, the workmen

of the world continue their tread;

the letters in the mailbox are

sometimes heavy with moisture.

 

Coffee in hand once again,

the windows give light,

trying to fight the approach

of the ever-longer night.

 

There is snow, they say,

in the hills;

the road is muddy with the year,

and mutely awaits the winters frost.

 

Words tumble on a keypad,

annoying reminders of times once had.

 

Pay no attention…

 

they are but the

Evidence of Time.

　

Author's Note

What did you think of the mood and the message?

Reviews

[Ennovy]

the mood touched my heart as i long for the day of old when the door was in tip top shape. then on the other hand time waits on no one it moves on for better or worst....a fine work of magic within each line.....loving this and you....ennovy