Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR

Veteran Poet - 2,631 Points (A Collection of Select Works... / The City That Never Sleeps)

Autumns Golden Wreath...

On th' dusty fields of umber
be no trail nor trace of summer,
octobers breath unfolds
a wreath of autumn, solid gold;

smoked shadow, naked branch
leaves like ticker-tape in dance,
trees stripped of their potpouri
makes the lonely artist grieve-

for the many hues and tones
the artists inspiration hones
pictorial skills of imagescape
depicting autumns scent and taste-

of hickory, acorns and rain,
harvests fertile spread of grain.
Hallowed be these precious gifts
'til their spirits pass and drift.

Winter bites with lions teeth,
surely Robert Frost would speak,
engaged by Autumn's golden wreath-
'til autumns death thus be complete,

©2014-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan, Jr./FjR

Submitted: Sunday, December 14, 2014

Topic of this poem: autumn

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