Taken by the trails,
Wet leaves covering mounds of horse poop,
Rocks settled in the peet,
Smelly, but sound footing, nonetheless.
Weak winds blew a teasing wind,
Just enough for the climate deniers,
Certainly, they can’t believe a real winter is coming.

Each step was beautiful,
The agony of the hills,
The picturesque run up to the creek,
The Rockwell shuffle through covered bridges.
Alas, there was a heavy sweat on my brow,
A sure sign that it was too hot for this late date,
Take that climaticians.

“You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.” Albert Camus

fall-autumn-red-season

Changing seasons know
Time keeps going without fail.
Sunny mornings come.

 

Photo Credit: Pexels.com

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Winter has given up.
The colors have taken over,
Grasses are being mowed,
The deck can be used again.

Spring has won.
The spirit of life is renewed,
Days are long,
I’m putting the coats away.

 

Photo Credit: Nita via Pexels