Winter’s Come

Red rises in the light of a waning sun.

Dusk conquers the sky, silent and proud,

Before Lady Moon rides her darkness

And claims her throne once more.

From the ground, forests watch the game

Repeated nightly, predictable,

Before turning their eyes inward.

The ground covering their twining roots

Is warmed by bloodied leaves

Dropped from the skyward limbs.

Night’s Queen bids forth the cold

And sends the westward wind howling in the eerie calm.

Fall drifts away, hand in hand with Father Time,

And passes Winter, serene under a clock of frost.

The forests shiver with the change,

Watch drying leaves, rust, crumple, disintegrate.

Dawn sounds the trumpet charge,

Ahead of Lord Sun on his sea of blue,

And chases Lady Moon past the horizon once more.

The trees turn their eyes inward, closing them tight,

Its time to slumber, despite warming rays of light.

 

 

Magic

Magic swirls in dusky skies

playing fun

playing hell

On other people’s lives

And yet not many believe in it.

The power of magic

To take your pain away

Or deliver another dose of it.

It brings roses, daffodils, tulips

to Life

And at the end of the day

Snuffs out their light.

It empowers people to fight for their dreams

And also knocks those on pedestals to their knees.

Oh wonderful magic, it plays its tricks

But you best believe in it.

It may help or hinder

But it’s definitely there.

Grab hold to its tail

And dear wanderer,

Beware.