Warm Hay Barn

Autumn moon sails low
Over auburn trees and dew laden fields
A solitary cow lows at the creeping chill
She longs for an hour or two more
In the warm hay barn


Before the Fall

The winds of autumn call me
Take joy in drawing in of night
Shadows and leaves crowd the borders
Each bright morning less defiant than the last
Each dragonfly along the fence
Drinks deep the dregs of the year
One last toast before the fall

Wide open

Wind ruffles the puddle
As I shelter from the rain
A sudden joy
At changing seasons
At cogs moving beyond my control
What a wide open world you are!

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014
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