What happens in these times, So cold, these days have become. Like the blossomed trees, The summer green leaves, Hitting fall as a frozen sun, Rises from the east.
mmmm...I loved that. It conjures up such beautiful images, in such a small piece. I'm imagining fresh green leaves floating from the tree to rest on crisp white snow around its roots, and odd mergence of both summer and winter. That's how it has been around here lately. It's as if the skies are struggling to hold on to summer, but of course, the onset of the latter half of the year is inenevitable. It's so unpredictable; So, so hot with clear sunny skies, and then within literally a few seconds heavy rainclouds will roll over and almost tropical rain is falling all around your feet, soaking your summer footwear. It's odd, and amazing. Nature in conflict with itself. It knows winter must arrive, but is doing its damnest to fight it. I particularly love the "frozen sun" phrase. Occurs as something of an oxymoron to me, and furthers the idea that the poem creates in my mind; the one of both the conflict and merging of the seasons- as here, the words are arguably opposite, but you have used them together. Whoo. Sorry for the ramble, I'm avoiding Literature homework.
