Darkness fades with nightly noises, to a gray haze, a quiet stillness...as first bird wings to feed and greet the new morn. Grass and leaf moist with dew, shapeless trees taking form, shrubberies like hidden sentries hidden in shadow...come to life, as sun rays breach the horizon, creating a new dawn.
Northern Hemlock speckled white, boxwood's thread covered o'er the night...Old Silver maple first leaves fallen; pachysandra embracing her gently, like a decorative wreath...as squirrels race down playfully to forage; azaleas slumbered in sleep, ever the next seasons change.
English Holly, leaves polished in light, seem anxious for a cold winters day... So to the ivy fruit borne but still green; winter creeper can soon rest, guarding from weeds. As pine tree varieties, of different needle and cone; wiht the holly and ivy which soon will decorate our home.
Now the trees of autumn scent the air; as their Crayola colors paint the sky... Soon to fall to the north winds to be raked, bagged, burned or just to wither and die; only to replenish the soil. As crickets sing their last songs, bird's wing to a warmer retreat...only to return to the garden, in a new year, generation, germination of yet another spring day
By: Dan Donahue