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Changing Seasons

Trees begin to shed
their clothing,
leaves change colors.

Turning brown then
falling from their
to be blown away.

They stand alone
bare in distress
for all to see.

The wind whistles
through the pines
there's a chill in
the air.

Close the door
days become bitter
winter has arrived.

Submitted: Monday, July 08, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, July 09, 2013

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Comments about this poem (A Golden Treasure by Heather burns )

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  • Vizard Dhawan (7/9/2013 2:26:00 PM)

    i am feeling cold reading this
    nothing is more sweeter than this

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Lyn Paul (7/9/2013 7:52:00 AM)

    Wonderful words Heathers. I love the importance of the trees, .Thank You

  • Wahab Abdul (7/9/2013 2:33:00 AM)

    marvelous, it metaphorically signifies the human life, the old age, i love it too much..

  • Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar (7/8/2013 10:34:00 PM)

    a very subtle in its expression. nice

  • Thomas A Robinson (7/8/2013 9:21:00 PM)

    My favorite time of the year.
    When all is at a loss it is all my gain.
    The crisp cold air of blue autumned skies,
    The rosie red cheeks cold to our touch.
    The frosty breath one breathes at dawn.
    And the cold that takes one's shoulders and shakes and shivers.
    Dwell on that.

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