WITH THE COMING OF WINTER

Forming upon a branch is a tiny drop
with a charming dormouse at its top.
Easing gracefully through the meadows
it will slither through the wheat fields
and while springing, carefree in its element, it knows
as if to describe the wonders it has concealed.
A shower begins to fall upon the flowers which glisten
and a rainbow appears and has revealed
the everlasting source of now and then.
Soon the autumn will pass into the snows
squalling through the gardens and listen
as the chipmunks scamper past
with a lightning fast motion once again.
Inexplicably the candor of Nature’s storm
keeps me grinning and exceedingly warm
as the fireplace crackles, glooms and glows.
Lovingly the coziness overwhelms us and we’ll
wander up the stairwell each other to adorn.
Dreamfully enchanted we ponder at last
exposing the secret of the passion we grasp.
Endearing the dormouse who channeled this course
we will sooth our fathomed friend as once before.
Then comes a harlequin with riddles and prose
enabling the saddened to frolic though forlorn.
Whimsical portraits bring laughter and flabbergast
the comic as the Sabbath’s bells do peal.
Steadfast are the rivals standing at rest
endowing their legions of failure who plead for the best.
Sacred intonations ring through the heavens
imploring the cherubs while a trueborn
native is in search of the holy grail.
Trickling is the drop from the branch above
leaving us with paradoxes alone to think of.
Then, lucidly clear comes the perception of the perfect hour.
Summoning our greater internal power
we will incite our weary souls to sail.