Monday, December 18, 2017



The bleak winter landscape,
Brushed with faint color
Slips slowly into twilight,

Bodes an ending, conveys
A sadness for dying things,
Weighs on the heart.


susan gray said...

very beautiful, and very sad.

June Butler said...

Thanks, Susan. I wasn't quite as sad as the poem makes me seem. I tried to add a third stanza that was more hopeful, but it didn't work. The Muse doesn't visit often, so I listen to her when she comes.

The Thought Criminal said...

What a fine poem. If it weren't for the skies you get this time of year, it might be really bleak.

June Butler said...

Thank you very much, TTC. Indeed, if it weren't for the skies...