Poetry / The Many Strings of Winter

The clouds scrape the sky
Finger paintings from heaven
A canvas stretched for miles
Enveloping the Earth’s presence,

So fortunate are we
A beauty such as this
So unpredictable
The mystery behind its kiss,

The sun glances in my direction
In this chair that I sit
My eyes barely open
Forming a tiny vulnerable split,

Its rays dance upon my skin
Until the breeze pushes itself in
And now a struggle of hot and cold
My skin with no defense to hold,

It’s this time of season
When the butterflies take flight
Showing off their array of colors
That’s reflected in this light,

The temperature will soon decline
As the blooms will give way
Green will turn to brown
With each passing day,

The clocks will count much slower
As the populations stride grow longer
To take a little more time to enjoy
The many strings of winter;

It’s the smell in the air
Clean and somewhat crisp
It’s the cool breeze I look to
And in the summer dreadfully miss,

There is just something about it
This thing I can not describe
Maybe it’s the holidays
When families all unite,

It,s these last few months
That soothe my soul so well
With reflective memories
Another year braving its exhale,

And I wonder
What next years story will be
Will it be like this year
Or will it change drastically,

Then again why focus
On what lies months ahead
When I can enjoy
This years remaining days instead,

For I sit in fall
Inching upon winters edge
Growing so very anxious
Of that sky to be overhead,

Those melancholy days
That cover up the splinter
Of the mistakes that I have made
I dive into the many strings of winter…

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