Sonnet

Ode to an Autumn Garden

The tired garden bows its head to fall,
As brown persimmon leaves begin to shed,
Scattering tiles beneath the autumn call,
While broken pails hold plants now long since fled.
A wall of plasterboard, a stark white scene,
Distracts the eye, a strange, misplaced display,
Beside the bricks that, stacked in shades of green,
Divide the sleeping grass from tired clay.
The peach tree stands between them, holding fast,
Its leaves still green, yet forced to let them go,
As winter waits to freeze the autumn past,
And pave the way for hidden spring-time bloom.(show)
   From shedding leaves to blossoms in the light,
   The wheel of life turns on, from black to white.


2026.04.15