The Seasonal Dam Breaks
Golden Yellow Streams
into an aftermath pool
of paper thin leaf
Kicking feet, pound, crunch, swish, brush aside
that which drank deeply of summer
now blanketing in oranges, reds, yellows
dancing to decaying brown.
Casey Kochmer Nov 2007
Personal Thoughts About the Poem
The nature of our life isn’t measured by the change of seasons,
but within the cycle of renewal.