Poetry: Intelligence

Golden fall leaves,
Swaying precariously.
A tired sun,
Flexing its waning prowess.
Anxious walkers,
Basking in the vestigial warmth,
Thinking hard,
To un-think winter.
A serene lake.
Pensively pondering,
An impending frozen fate,
Splash!
The pelican swoops in,
To enjoy the final platter.
A pit stop,
On its impeccably-timed
Southern flight.
Defeating the frosty clasp,
That would shackle us mortals,
Who are not
Bird brained.

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2 Responses

  1. Of course, one needs sustenance on a long migratory journey. So Splash, –– down to catch a fresh fish which isn’t excited at all…

    I’m getting ready for the impending winter. It cycles whether I want it to or not!!!

    Anantha makes me laugh. Thanks for sharing.

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