Seasons of Life
Fall is perhaps my favorite time of the year. Living in Maryland once again has helped me remember some wonderful falls when I was younger: walking around outside with the crisp air and all of the wonderful colors, jumping into a pile of freshly raked leaves, hayrides through pumpkin patches or just sitting inside by a raging fire. Almost twenty years ago I wrote a poem that intrigued those who read it, because they thought it was rather morbid. It was never my intention for it to be so, but it was supposed to draw the reader to the newness that lies just beneath all of the decay that we see. Let me know what you think. Content With Death © Steve Poole Although the wind outside is cold It's warm inside with a blazing fire I hear a fierce and mighty gust And see some leaves of red and gold As gently they fall, then rising higher Descend to a shifting grave of rust The wind will speak a stronger wail Like music of an aspen branch As death continues on beneath it And then the snow I k...