The Tyrant of the Season

This is my ode to fall, my fave season, or a rant about my least fave, winter. You decide.

It’s cataclysmic the way
leaves fall off trees in autumn—
like a genocide, of sorts,
facilitated by that feckless wonder,
the one they call Winter.
He would rather blow cold and be frigid
than let a maple or an oak
stand tall and dressed…
Oh, but if they could fight back!
Let the brilliance and the vibrancy of their colors be limitless upon the landscape!
But there can be no triumph against the ice blue season
Only the evergreens, traitors to their kind, stand with Winter,
because for any other to resist is defiance of its will,
to be outcast and left naked in the cold harsh wind, defeated,
until Winter’s own nemesis awakens
to chase it away…
and the cycle starts anew.


This poem was written for Poetry Potluck, where we had to write a poem using at least 5/55 words. I used 9/55. You can follow them on instagram @poetrypotluck for monthly prompts.