The Finish Line
Clouds hang overhead
geese crowd the banks
when the rain starts to fall
the farmer gives thanks.
The harvest has passed
with bountiful yields
winter is fast coming
there’s frost in the fields.
Feel the push of the wind
and the bite of the cold
his skin etched with time
bones fragile and old.
But the sky won’t snow
and the sun won’t shine
no more walks in the wood
at the finish line.
See the colors dissolving
in the cold steely sky
as he crosses the threshold
with one last mournful sigh.
Colleen Keller Breuning © 2015
November 24, 2015
Colleen Keller Breuning 