With fall comes a boisterous ball
Filled with wild colors, flaming reds that stall
Time and create a feeling that’s heavy in the head.
Worries abound: pandemic, school, health,..
Where to start or stop with the heaviness
That steals your breath?
Money, money, money, materialize and grow in the yard.
Grow into a thick trunked tree and seed me your harvest.
Don’t die out in winter and stop your perpetual
Rejuvenation of yourself, my family, and mine.
Without your harvest my heavy head turns to lead,
My heart turns to steely stone,
And my motivation dies a silent screaming death.
Poetry for Change 