The Poetry Marathon

Fallen apples lie.

Abundance is accepted

Even while souls starve.

Living on the edge

Like a flick’ring candle flame.

But is there a choice?

Pale blue cloudless sky

But we are in Albany

Could be snow tonight.

Chimes are ringing loud

Breeze is stiff but not too cold.

Arms from North reach South.

Spider, web and prey

Packed up and gone by morning.

A story of life.

Saw a Golden Orb

Carefully stringing her web.

Delicate death trap.

Here in Albany

Roses bloom and oak drops leaves.

Seasons are but thoughts.

Bell shaped capsicums

Red and green in profusion.

Last of summer’s wealth.

In a darkened world

On a sunny winter morn,

Garden says “Hold fast!”

Time is passing strange.

My brother Rod is eighty

But our youth persists.