cycles

Seasoned

The first whiff of autumn’s in the air.
A moment new that we’ll all share.
The flowers wilting and sweaters out,
should be ready, there’s never a doubt.
~
But each day’s new is always the way.
Only yesterdays are here to stay.
The leaf cycles; green, gold to gone.
To the earth they all are drawn.
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With time comes age for good and bad.
We all cycle forward, happy and sad.
And like the leaf we too shall fall.
Winter’s coming, but not for all.

~*~
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A Cycling We Will Go

With the summer comes the fall.
With the heat the colors call.
With a breeze the leaves afloat,
it’s the season, a chill we’ll note.
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Autumn passes to winters white.
With the snow comes a longer night.
With the darkness time will slow.
With our dreams sunshine will glow.
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Spring is born to bursting hues.
A rebirth’s given for paying dues.
With this life we’re nature drawn.
With a vision this world we’ll fawn.
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With a blink the green consumes.
Our bodies warm, our thought blooms.
Days awaken to skies of blue.
With the sunset comes dawn anew.

~*~
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Patterns, Patterns, Patterns

Patterns, Patterns seen, felt and heard,
some imaginary, some absurd.
Some are real and some deceive,
some are made to make us believe.
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Time has a pattern, we call it time.
Life has a pattern, two sides of prime.
Joy’s pattern runs every other cycle.
The space between varies by psychal.
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Identifying patterns is a chore or a game.
Seen from afar they all look the same.
Personal patterns are for us to decide.
Why be camo with nothing to hide?

~*~
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