changes

O that I should prosper
if the music stops.
It is the quiet angst of a failing melody.
The dove’s cry wanes
as anxious sun rises
procuring new thoughts
onto old frames.
I bid farewell to summer days
as all too much of my elan
languishes on apathetic and stale
warm winds soon to cede to northern
breezes harboring watercolor changes
and freezing still waters.
The traveling birds are ready
for a journey onto warmer leas
and I, for lack of much else,
also feel ready for a change.

(c) 2017 Rick Stassi

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