Derrick Ashford
A wind blows to
Whichever direction desired.
All of the family gathers
By the simmering fire for
Closeness and Warmth,
To reminisce about the old and eat merry.
The trees sway and dance as they change their tune.
Their leaves no longer green with life
But now a glowing red, brown, or orange;
Their green shields stripped away with time’s strife.
I can hear the funeral bells for summer come alive.
The ironic sounds bring my mind warmth and my body chills.
The clothing of old—where we embrace the idea
of less is more—gets tossed out for a more fulfilling set.
Sweaters and jeans, leggings and such
As we lean on walls and doors, showcasing our new fashion sense.
The leaves are falling,
Not slowly led down by gravity—like snow;
They fall down to their own music.
To the greatest song that can be:
The wind; she is not a siren but
A muse, inspiring and telling about change.
Can you hear her graceful,
Most wondrous melody?