Burnished do I feel,
Beneath this tilting sun.
For my roots have grown full,
Ladin with the beauty of Summer.
But hush, my hair once verdant and lush,
Grows crisp in the shortening days.
Winds whisper of the coming cold,
Edged with a touch of frost.
Gather in the produce of life,
Prepare for the gathering dark.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.