Another Autumn Poem

The sun blasts orange through the trees,

A last grasp to cling to the day. It’s rays tear

Through the branches, reaching out to us,

Pleading for us not to let it slip below the hill.

We watch unmoved, or perhaps a little sad.

We too will slip below, but not yet.

We watch, curious to see what we can learn

From the beauty of that last grasp.

About alicebarrett

Small town writer
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1 Response to Another Autumn Poem

  1. Alan of Apple Valley says:

    Nailed it Alice!

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