Morning breaks,
moistened by the evening coolness.
Misty fingers meander
across the grassy knoll, touching
every blade of grass in tender caress.
A slumbering sun lumbers over the horizon,
rising to prominence by degrees.
The wind wafts over the spreading green,
a scene witnessed time and again.
Summer breathes its last gasping breath,
a cough and a wheeze in a cold autumn breeze,
and an expiration expected, but sadly endured.
Autumn falls.
I like the way your poem takes the reader along with the breeze.
ReplyDelete(Sad to say, though Walt, when I read the words "grassy knoll", I thought you were taking readers to another, later tragic autumn day....)
Patricia
http://pmpoetwriter.blogspot.com/