The fiery heat of summer's finally broken
through; the sky a muted pastel, softened
blue and white; a morning lately rare.
The greens on greens are giving way to gold,
and red and orange surely close behind.
Revolving earth, evolving life, be bold
to grow yourself, for growing you will find
a world beyond. What if the sun refused
to yield to rain, or winter in her sameness
settled in? What if the sky a grayness
overtook, rainbow's colors left unused?
Birdsongs float on morning breeze, and cricket
symphony. Sunspots pierce the wooded thicket.
© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019