Windfall In Drought

This is a guest post by Taylor Graham. Thank you Taylor.


The year is flinging off its gold
in leaf, in leaf-fall litter. Cold
waits, dragon-old and brazen.
The scab-bark willow’s tarnished brown.
No profit in wind-winnow down,
thistle-gown faded ashen.

Then comes a day of spattered pane,
storm clouds lowering, scent of rain.
Here we remain with our hopes
rooted like the gray trees standing,
sentinels in dark gathering
for guarding of silent slopes.


bessye said…
Hello Joanne!
Taylor, this is wonderful! I particular like:
Then comes a day of spattered pane, storm clouds lowering, scent of rain.
Awesome! I love it! Joanne, hope all is well my friend..

Anonymous said…
What a wonderful poem!
bessye, Isn't that a beautiful line? I'm doing well and hope you are having a great weekend.

Icy, thanks for the comments.
rainfield61 said…
You always share a beautiful picture with a beautiful poem with us. Double bonus.
A great poem, but very sad.
betchai said…
that's a beautiful poem Jo, and the picture, wow, it is like another dimension of beauty, very interestingly captured.
Cher said…
the photo and the poem are both one of a kind!
Ratty said…
A very good poem. If I have to live with the fall, this is the way I want to think of it.
Angel said…
What an amazing poem Joanne, and of course, Taylor. "The scab-bark willow's tarnished brown."
Wonderful imagery. I love the 2nd stanza! Winter...not my favorite season, although I can appreciate the beauty, the cold, not so much:)
Take care!
RNSANE said…
Excellent poem. With an equally outstanding photo.
C said…
I love how this poet writes so lovingly, eloquently, and fondly, of nature! :)

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