A brisk wind blows and swirls about
autumn leaves on its breath
catching them in their dance of death.
Trees stand strongly, firmly stout,
their branches will not bend nor break
unlike the backs of those who rake.
Autumn colours there is no doubt
they're orange, red, eggy yellow
admired by the passing fellow.
Seasonal hues that love to flout
their time to shed their summer cloak
with no more sunny days to soak.
Yet these leaves neither sulk nor pout
in accepting their windy fall
upon the ground which is their call.
A brisk wind blows and swirls about,
trees stand strongly, firmly stout
autumn colours there is no doubt
seasonal hues that love to flout
yet these leaves neither sulk nor pout.....
A new and tricky [for me] poetry form - the constanza! Thank you Bjorn for really taking me out of my comfort zone! I nearly had to ask you, "could you repeat the question please?" I hope I have done this form justice with its rules/syllables/format etc etc.
Here is the link: Constanzas