Gerry
01-25-2008, 08:00 PM
The wind whipped the dry rusty leaves around
That blanketed the ground under the naked trees
Their limbs waving like your Granda dancing
Going this way and that with no rhyme or reason
The mulch of wet decomposed leaves cling tight
They are long past the stage of fearing the wind
Their life has ended and their energy gone
Gone into feeding the next generation
In the midst of that tango of leaves
Strutting across the brown mulchy bodies
Bright light green pierces the gloom
The seeds daring to reach for the sun
They move so slowly, carefully, quietly
Not even the sharp eyed eagle can spot them
With the first glint of spring sunshine
They will explode and life will continue
By Gerry Temple
Copyright January 2008
That blanketed the ground under the naked trees
Their limbs waving like your Granda dancing
Going this way and that with no rhyme or reason
The mulch of wet decomposed leaves cling tight
They are long past the stage of fearing the wind
Their life has ended and their energy gone
Gone into feeding the next generation
In the midst of that tango of leaves
Strutting across the brown mulchy bodies
Bright light green pierces the gloom
The seeds daring to reach for the sun
They move so slowly, carefully, quietly
Not even the sharp eyed eagle can spot them
With the first glint of spring sunshine
They will explode and life will continue
By Gerry Temple
Copyright January 2008