Monday, September 15, 2025

More harbingers of winter


It happens every year at about this time: 
The sun, flourishing her ruffled skirts 
In her colorful nightly flamenco dance, 
Retreats once more behind the trees, 
Leaving us with only remnants, 
Frayed edges of the petticoats 
She once lifted so enticingly before us. 
If only we were not quite so far north, 
Or had chosen a home that faced 
A bit more west, we’d not be forced 
Into this annual separation.

2 comments:

Photopoet said...

i just discovered your photos and writings a short while ago and i have to say they are some of the most beautiful, meaningful and inspiring i've ever seen. i am taking a course in contemplative photography now and realizing it's basically what i've always done.
thanks for sharing your visions.

Diane Walker said...

Thank you so much for those kind words!