The Leaping Stream Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The leaping stream of days remembering
With aromas of summer from yesterdays
The glow on feathers and yellow abandoning
The red leaves on earth's lonely trays
Remember the sweet rose that was with its thorn
Into the gold clay of hoary threading scent
Those days of these gifts are now out worn
Into the slowness of winters relent

The hours of dark in silent shadowed water
With petals lying deep of remembered roots
Like always - it comes to nothing, its ‘blotter’
With everything waiting in its attributes
A love song for a bird is this lonely day now
That deep in its thought is depressed on a bough

(made while listening to, Paul Van Dyk - For An Angel; -)