The Pearls of Catharsis Times Issue 01, Oct 2016 | Page 5
Harsh naked sticks of trees, branches stripped like filigree against a pewter sky. and half the tree below where ankle deep in memories of summer leaves. Curled, forlorn, sad dull brown they smother blades of silent grass. Nature, nature infiltrator, nights occlusions pour like smoke, shuts out the moon. Thief of shadows... winter comes Expectations tip tumble from the pages of our childhood almanac such grandeur in the stanzas of these autumn songs Of death... decay … The orbits of rebirth to come And each a paradigm a confluence Find your thermal tag along Nature, nature story teller illustrator You have me so enthralled.