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November Vine
by
George Wentz |
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It clings to the weathered post,
its crisp dry leaves shivering
in the cold November wind.
Summer, warmed by the July sun,
fed the lifeblood of the vine
during youthful and festive days.
It thrived in splended green,
bearing juicy, purple fruit
without care about tomorrow.
Now, plucked clean of its worth,
betrayed by the sun and left alone
the wilted vine is nothing but itself.
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--Submitted by George Wentz on 2011-11-27.
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George Wentz:
I agree. I've changed "wilted" to "withered" in my original, and any subsequent readers here will have to make the mental substitution. Thanks for your thoughtful suggestion.
Posted 11/29/2011 08:45 PM
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BGirolamo:
Ooooh... I like this! I can visualize as well as feel the effects in the vine's 'life force' as it changes from season to season. However, I have a thought. Perhaps there is a more appropriate word than "wilted" in the last stanza; to me wilted doesn't seem to capture the same "crisp dry leaves shivering" state of being mentioned in the 1st stanza, but more an "exhausted from the heat" state of being.
Posted 11/29/2011 04:18 PM
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