Late in the
afternoon, the
fading

Sun’s rays shine
through

Crevices in an old
cabin, moving

Through the
rooms where
ancient

Spirits tell the
silent tales of the

Past, which are
now only

Memories in
someone’s mind.

Outside, the
shadows of

Redwoods cover
the haunted

Trails of long
deceased deer,
and

Pebbles piled into
stone idols,

Formed by
someone’s hands,

Carry the stories
of the seasons

In their moss
covered coats.

Far above the old
cabin, clouds
Scud noiselessly in
the

Atmosphere
falling like
whispers

And, an elderly
lady kneels in her

Garden pondering
on what

Flowers she will
be planting next

Spring.

The season is
changing, and the

Flowers that once
wafted sweet

Aromas into the
air have all but

Faded away, the
brook that sang

Melodies into the
lady’s ears is

Now but a tiny
blue ribbon. The

Elderly woman,
birds, and other

Animals sense
that a door to the

Fall season is
quietly opening.

 


James Piatt

James, a retired professor, is a pushcart and best of web nominee. He has published 3 collections of poetry, “The Silent Pond” (2012), “Ancient Rhythms,” (2014), and  “LIGHT,” (2016), 4 novels, 35 short stories, and over 1,030 poems. His fourth collection of poetry will be released in 2018.