mummed magic

the scarlet leaf
of the almost bare autumn tree,
s  l  o  w  l  y , ever s  l  o  w  l  y ,
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
from its home twig
to its grave earth.

the crystal snowflake
of the heavy, winter cloud
g e n t l y , ever g e n t l y ,
d
e
s
c
e
n
d
i
n
g
from its throne in heaven
to its melting ground.

the brave sprout
of the fresh, spring seed
s o f t l y , ever s o f t l y ,
e
s
c
a
p
i
n
g
its cotyledons’ cave
towards the sky’s bright, open shade.

the soft, infant rays
of the smiling, summer sun
g e n t l y , ever g e n t l y,
b
u
r
s
t
i
n
g
into tiny sparkles of warmth
to kiss the waiting land.

these are earth’s mummed magic,
they need no noise to be majestic.

—

P.S. Is it evident that I fantasize about four seasons too much? 😀

09.06.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Matt Lewis on Unsplash

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In response to Magic by Paul of paul scribbles.

So my poetic pals, your task if you choose to accept it, is to pen a poem using the word MAGIC in some form or write a piece that is quite simply MAGICAL. You know you can.