deepundergroundpoetry.com
Winds of Change
When the nights give way to colder morning dew and the mosquitos no longer fill the air,
When the first junco pecks the ground under the bare mulberry tree and the chicory no longer paints the roadside in hues of voilet-blue.
When Orion departs from the daytime sky to contrast the backdrop of the universe and the dawn sleeps a little longer.
That's when I feel the hope of what could have been slowly drift away, leaving only cold in its wake.
When the first junco pecks the ground under the bare mulberry tree and the chicory no longer paints the roadside in hues of voilet-blue.
When Orion departs from the daytime sky to contrast the backdrop of the universe and the dawn sleeps a little longer.
That's when I feel the hope of what could have been slowly drift away, leaving only cold in its wake.
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