Treasure Island

Dorothy (Alves) Holmes

(Baltimore, Maryland)

Winds of Winter


Play in the sun
Chasing through
The woods while
Cooper Beech decorate
The barren spaces, once
Green in delight.
I hear the buzz of a saw
Cutting the branches of
A fallen tree...an oak, I see.
December in its last days
With its for-get-me not
Sighs of good-bye,
And its pale blue sky telling
No secrets...
Wait and see, it whispers.

Dorothy Alves Holmes
A Poet Who Loves To Sing

Submitted: Sunday, June 23, 2013
Edited: Monday, June 24, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

6: 24-6: 25 p.m.
December 28,2011

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