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Mornings infused with autumn now,
vestiges of night cling damply
in dawn -light glow...
... birdsong echoes in hollow rings
through thin pale mist
curling down the ever-green hills...
Just beyond her kitchen window
a tree fern stands
like a one legged triffid
thick moss adorns his southern side
- still damp with early morning dew...
Strange days, she thought
- sweeping rain
heavy showers
scattered sun
gusting winds
- four seasons in one...
... and she pondered plastics
and pollution and polar shifts...
Winter in Queensland was going to be cold
She could feel it in her soul...
It made her feel older
than her 58 years old.
SharonleeGoodhand 2019

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Editing stage: 


I really like the imagery, the look at one season as it's anticipating another. "Birdsong echoes in hollow rings" is beautiful and a good play on words, since rings, by definition, are hollow. You got me looking up a new word: triffid! What a fun word. The poem has a feel of being between somewhere very concrete and very abstract, as if imagining the coming winter like a polar shift. A world we know that might become something transformed, and not necessarily for the better. Interesting juxtapositions. Welcome to Neopoet, Sharonlee!

I am terribly sorry I didn't reply to your comment, I somehow became lost in life and am just finding way to a more balanced harmony.
Oddly enough, it's around the same time as year as when I wrote and posted this... just one year 11 months later... and almost winter again.

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