Bruised Summer waiting to heal in the cold of Winter

Trees in instrumental fall out
a brief of russet gold of Autumn reprising
crisp melodies
new earthy notes
crinkle under the foot of good or evil
percussion on the opal floor
rich bank of human endearing

Gone the pause of sun down thinking
one leaf carelessly written on
will always get away
held once in open palm honesty releasing it in hopeful pure

A Red bruise slaps the alone cheek

Seasons work backwards
orbit rolls in the push of raw need
Cannot foresee which season comes first

Winter gather the cold coat of hibernation
freeze lips to the less bark
sit silent in the more
The season of Unbeknown has come

© K S Hardy 2011

Bruised Summer waiting to heal in the cold of Winter

Arcadia Tempest

Joined November 2008

Artist's Description

Are true seasons gone?
Are we evolving into new seasons?
To understand perhaps like many things in life even Mother Nature is changing

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