avatarRonald C. Flores-Gunkle

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Abstract

id="45ea">Orange, yellow and red, The town I visit, A psychedelic crazy quilt.</p><p id="7022">A dazzling display that delights: Vibrant, shimmering beauty, An impressionist painting awakened.</p><p id="dab1">A dazzling display that depresses: Are these leaves not dying? Won’t color soon be sucked from them?</p><p id="f442">Won’t they be shed, brown discards

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moulded into earth?</p><p id="ad31">Blue, green, and white The town I live in, A warm womb of wonder.</p><p id="d662">I have lived a long and verdant summer Where the color of the flowers in the trees Mark the months and years.</p><p id="6010">Is there a steadfast season? Can I escape the fall to winter? If the seasons do not change, do I?</p></article></body>

On Visiting Autumn

Eternal Summer©2016 Ronald C. Flores-Gunkle

Autumn, nature’s culmination, The relentless greens of summer gone, An end-of-season fireworks finale.

Orange, yellow and red, The town I visit, A psychedelic crazy quilt.

A dazzling display that delights: Vibrant, shimmering beauty, An impressionist painting awakened.

A dazzling display that depresses: Are these leaves not dying? Won’t color soon be sucked from them?

Won’t they be shed, brown discards moulded into earth?

Blue, green, and white The town I live in, A warm womb of wonder.

I have lived a long and verdant summer Where the color of the flowers in the trees Mark the months and years.

Is there a steadfast season? Can I escape the fall to winter? If the seasons do not change, do I?

Poetry
Autumn
Mortality
Self Reflection
Poets Unlimited
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