Song of Life

With all of the attention I pay to prose, I find every once in a while I need to keep my hand in and stay in touch with my roots and write a poem or two. Here's one I wrote called "Song of Life," as summer turns into fall and youth gives way to-- ahem-- experience:


This tree it stands amid the breeze
Which gives its head a gentle tease
The same soft fingers, brush my face
Across the field that leaves do chase

And spin and swirl a merry turn
While summer’s sun on shoulders burn
For none know when or where or why
The docile clime will pass us by

When greens and softer shades of blue
Give way to autumn’s cooler hues
While nature’s pallet paints a scene
As branches decked with leaves grow lean

The breeze that once on gentle feet
Becomes the gust foretelling sleet
Soft-felt fingers, upon my face
Now scratch and burn on winds that chase

And there below the field now bare
The snowflakes fly without a care
As winter takes the stage again
The Song of Life a new refrain

For now though life is warm and bright
The winter’s care a distant sight
The leaves that cling upon my tree
In sunlight dappled they will be

© Ray Cattie