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by Ben Pickard Feb 5, 2018
Nature, environment /
The crunch of frost gave way beneath my feet
As the morning sun fought off the stubborn mist.
How odd! to see the pregnant fields and wheat
Transformed so soon and by this icy twist.
September had not yet dawned but that
Could not quite warm my breath or rosy cheeks -
The land about was still quite full and fat...
Did that not make this amble cruel and bleak?
I came, then, to the river's friendly bend,
Where at this time of year it trickles so.
But hark! the icy queen would even this suspend:
No current or no sound to prove the flow.
A 'tick' then came to me upon the still
And hurled me back to life from where I stood;
Almost noon and yet this casual chill
Did still abound throughout the open fields and woods.
And by and by, I made my way toward my house,
Accepting that and all I couldn't change;
For not a pheasant, badger, squirrel, hare or mouse
Could help but find this eerie morning cold and strange.
by Zia Mikaela
wow! i am so inspired by your artistry. Excellent job!
by Joseph Kerr
I am moved by this as I often find myself out and about way beyond the close or before the start of the regular day, and you do get an eerie sense of pagan spirits walking with you as Mother Nature prepares the world for the next season.
by Ben Pickard
Thanks for reading and your interesting comment, Joseph
by Matthew McKewon
Thank you, Matthew
by Abstract Poet
by Khai Montegrande
one word... WOW! congratulations!!!
by The Po whet
by CJ Maleney
by CRAFTY KEN