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SUMAC
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While October was culminating, autumn got into the jewelry box of these thriving bushes, and silently pocketed the emeralds, leafing these radiant red rubies, and, running through the pasture, scattered diamonds on Silver Creek. Now this crowned season in crimsoned autumn air, with fields gone russet, dazzles brilliantly. Oh, that I were queen of these woodlands.
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SEASONED
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Plum blossoms bloom — soon blushing road side’s face, green pastures, fields flower’d in the wild rose, and every turn reveals sweet Summer’s grace, birthed from the tender seeds — lovely Spring sows. And you my blue-eyed love, my blonde-haired boy, your golden skin, your muscled sturdy frame, kissed by sun’s love each year you’ve farmed with joy, you’ve spilled your love out on the land — the same. Soon Summer’s greens flame into Autumn’s reds, the harvest of love’s labors ripe with grain — years grace your face as Summers now have fled and leave their trace of Eden’s curse ingrained. Sweet fruits and flowers the gift of Spring time’s seed in love, the harvest of man’s toil indeed.
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