Heather-Nightflower

Buds Breaking through the damp earth Still covered in last year’s fallen leaves, And small clumps of snow that Have refused to melt Green tips unfurling Reaching for the bright blue sky And the golden orb That hangs in it Bright spots of color Peaking out Signs of life Wary of a late frost Everything turning green The once dead branches Of the trees over head coming the life With soft green buds, And the song of birds Children laughing As they run through the fields Winter coats forgotten, Playing In the warmth that they have missed Free to go outside As the seasons change Listening To the music that fills the air Yet dreading The pollen that soon Will float on the air.

The cool air nips in the twilight Warmth radiating off of the red bricks of the old cottage As the sun dips behind the horizon Staining the sky with a vibrant glow With gold, crimson, and dark plum The same colors reflected in the trees Whose leaves have lost their emerald hue And now look to be aflame As the wind whistles through the branches And playfully lifts and dances with the fallen leaves The whole scene looks to be aflame The red brick cottage with candles lit in every window The smoke of a wood fire rising from the chimney The trees with their gold and scarlet leaves aflutter And the rich sunset casting its amber glow. And yet I shiver as I watch this beauty unfold I can feel Jack Frost coming Coming to coat this fire in ice, To steal the warmth that once was here, Nipping at your nose.