Life In War-Time

I awoke this morning in the middle of a war,

Between the autumn trees and the wind,

Lashing and screaming, the heavens poured,

As the cold season marches in,

 

It seemed that the maples were losing ground,

Shedding red leaves like blood from their limbs,

When it was over they had lost their glowing crown,

And once again the autumn wins,

 

A torrent of rain took to the darkened skies,

Crying out it’s victory there,

Turned it’s wrath to the river with weeping eyes,

And it spilled out everywhere,

 

Over the roads and the lawn it overwhelmed,

Pushing the fallen leaves before it,

Like a galleon sailing with twigs at the helm,

It was beautiful I must admit,

 

The power of the rain to mold the path,

Of stony river bed walls,

In wonder I stood in the aftermath,

As a lonely heron calls,

 

This movement of paths in seasonal streams,

Questing down the mountain side,

Like the shifting channels of my dreams,

Find a mossy place to hide,

 

Where wild mushrooms bloom in the wake,

Of this catastrophic deluge,

Even destruction has the power of life to make,

Hidden beneath your shoes.

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