In tribute to Petru’s lovely haiku.
Snow falls on meadows.
Crows pick at harvest seeds.
Spring now far away.
Fall’s crispness compels
apples to tumble from trees.
Worms make the journey.
I chase one red leaf
across dry and brittle grass.
Juice of summer gone.
Fallen leaves crackle.
Sparrows add the treble notes.
Season’s musical.
Cold moon shines down
Upon hollow dried grasses.
Earth prepares to sleep.
Frost at morning
Makes birds plump their feathers
Squirrels add chatter.
Jane Kohut- Bartels
Copyrighted, 2019
