Prairie Poetry   
  End of Autumn
   
 

So close to winter,
only a few brittle
leaves remain.
Sparrows nestle
near the ground
against a sharp,
slant breeze.
I look across
the fallow,
the horizon
mantled in gray,
all thoughts
cast into
the solitude of day.

 
   
  Donna A. Ryan
   
  Copyright © 2004 Donna A. Ryan
   
  Author Index | Biographies | Support Prairie Poetry | Month Index | Year Index | Guestbook | Home