Mark Scrivener

Poetry Poems Original Verse

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Summer's Ending


Georgica, NSW Late February

The summer's ending yet bright day
burns with late-season heat.
The sky is gathering some western cloud
foretelling storm at night, perhaps.

The day is hot yet when gold sun
rose through white mist that drifted up
from lying on the hills,
while dew drops on the grass
were bright as stars...

I felt a trace of chill, a touch
reminding me of autumn yet to come
and winter following.

The summer's ending now
and yet it must be so,
as seasons cycle and we walk the track,
the track of time as change must come.

Yet in the circle of the seasons
are rhythms that repeat and give
a sureness to the months and years-
the small red cedar trees
are full and fine with leaves
but by the winter light
their green will all be shed
so buds of spring can bring new finery.

Yet with our sad and silly dream that we
have conquered and control the world
with industries and cities like
infection ever-spreading on the face of earth,
we push the cycle out of shape.

The summer of our pride is ending...
and this I fear- how we shall pay for this.


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