PITTER PATTER

Pitter patter
sound of rain
that’s come
our so dry land
to water.

Fall begun–
cooler mornings,
lower sun,

living forth
going north
of one eerie
dark blood moon,

the stars
and night
will rule the better part
of our current Universe,

until the dip
when that trend
will do
its annual reverse–

But first
we’ll have to weather
winter soon.

So I wish you all the best,
day or night,
dry or wet,
at no one in particular’s behest,
as with your most blessed life
courageously
you do move on.

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This entry was posted in Autumn, Medium Length Poems, Seasons, Spring, Winter and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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