The strong winds were cold— and very unkind.
Those same winds scattered the
leaves about the meadows and fields.
An army in full retreat— disoriented.
Driven in all directions.
Their tattered orange and brown uniforms
brittle with exhaustion.
This newfound freedom terrified them.
They longed for the safety of the giant oak tree
where there were no choices to be made.
But there could be no turning back.
Days were shorter— and the light faded quickly.
Nature surrendered to winter
as youth surrendered to time.
He shuddered at the thought of it.
/////
Fred Crudele is a native of the Hudson Valley in New York. He and his wife, Diane, have three children and five grandchildren. His hobbies of poetry and photography began many years ago as activities to enjoy with his family. This led to an appreciation of nature and the arts. For Fred, poetry is an exceptional vessel to express emotions and observations.
Lightwood 