Change

I listened to the sound of silence,
a crisp resonation of nothing but the beat of life-
reverberating beneath skin and bone.

It willed for something phenomenal,
Some chorus of partridge in the undergrowth,
perhaps a movement in the earth beneath my feet.

But all that came was a whisper,
certainty that green turns to gold;
gold to tarnished brown,
leading once more to an explosion of fern.

Laying on the dampness of last nights rain,
the season evolved in a heartbeat.
For all the pirouetting of my autumn,
winter is still an age away.

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10 responses to “Change

  1. This is one beaeutiful poem, Shan ~ courtesy of your wonderful imagery:

    ‘It willed for something phenomenal,
    Some chorus of partridge in the undergrowth,
    perhaps a movement in the earth beneath my feet.’

    Perfect!!

    And it reminded me of my favourite Robert Frost poem:

    Nothing Gold Can Stay

    Nature’s first green is gold,
    Her hardest hue to hold.
    Her early leaf’s a flower;
    But only so an hour.
    Then leaf subsides to leaf,
    So Eden sank to grief,
    So dawn goes down to day
    Nothing gold can stay.

    Phenomenal write! 🙂

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