Tinged with blue
With the passing those looks begin to fade,
royal colours losing precious golds,
the blues of Winter
cool breathing heralds
of a new season.
Autumn sun posts its rearguard sentries
between the drizzled mists
and there’s a sword in the air
that slices the bones.
There are yet darker days to come
with barren trees, colour gone,
when the grey of the skies
blunders into hoary branches
with damp kisses.
Even then the promise lingers,
seedtime and harvest flown,
while earth remains -
God’s cyclic colouring
challenges our palette of conception.
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