Seasons Turn

by brian francis

When winter lays her bounty white
Across the grassy knolls and meadows
Frosty winds blowing a shivering gale
Drift the shallows and fences high
Its harrowing voice a banshee wail

Spring breathes a warming breath
Stirs the sleeping potential hidden
To rise up to stand and budding bloom
To tempt the bees to visit caressing
From flower to flower bride to groom

In summer the nests sing and chirp
The flowers disappearing lost to fruit
Weighing the limbs to sag from drupe
The cornucopia of nature’s stunning gifts
Constant in nature a recurring loop

The harvest, fall’s generous gathering
The reward of the farmer’s long days
lowering of the sun from high in the sky
Cold winds start to blow a whispering wail
A prelude to winter’s harrowing cry

Copyright ©2021 brian francis

A Few Men Faithful

By brian francis

When honor rallies those few who hear her call
Blood burning hot beneath the cause
When the tempest rises in the hearts of men
And righteousness becomes a cry

Clenched fists and determination echo remembrance
Of when others rose to challenge
When other causes drove the fray
When other fires burned

When honor rallies those few who hear her call
To gather around them the followers
To urge and raise the tempest within their souls
And to guide them in their stroke

Like waves crashing against the stone and rock
Only the smooth rubble of other days
Reveals the slow defeat of all that was
The wearing away bit by bit of all that is

When honor rallies those few who hear her call
Those few men faithful are born of need
Hearing the call – a distant refrain
Passing on the winds of change

Copyright © 2020 brian francis

New Dawn

By brian francis

Watching the clouds break
it’s the end of the storm
feeling ravaged and weakened
looking shredded and torn
it’s strange how it happens
when the storm first sets in
you don’t really notice
that it’s raining again

When the storm turns torrential
and it’s beating you down
broken loose of your moorings
you’re just drifting around
your vision and reason
leave you somehow betrayed
you’re lost in your own pain
your soul being flayed

I’ve walked in that valley
the one called Despair
It has nothing, nothing living
no sustenance there
But watching the clouds break
at the end of the storm
The weight somehow lifted
A new will to go on.

Copyright ©2020 brian francis