THAT WHICH IS LEFT ON THE HARVEST BREEZE
Autumn has its pleasure as the orange moon rises high
taking its place among the multi layers of darkness
shinning its eloquence in piercing pronouncement
colors the night in shades of harvest.
The day fades as its survival is destined
leaving the hollowness of the night in the howls
of the coming season as it blows free forcasting
the days to come.
The night crowns from the heavens to the horizon
spreading herself
beyond the stars and the seas, touches each creature
in a way that only their partnership can interpret
as the cool air embraces the season’s scents.
I too have felt the fragrances of Autumn touch my soul
enriching my heart to reflect on memories
earnestly gathered
brings youth and its folly back with smiles and silent laughter.
I at times like to walk with the night in my reflection and smiles.
No fanfare no remembered event larger than was, just the honesty
of those precious moments
relived as I look upward to an orange harvest moon.
And if luck be my companion on those chosen nights
Fall’s breeze will be at its most activity
veiled in the passing faint scent
of that legendary dark rose crossing the horizon
of the old man’s smile, and gently embracing
the healed heart of a man with fond remembrances.
B. W. Evans is a man of romance and poetry, as told in the poetic stories he has written over the years. His first book- FRENCH TOAST is now in its second printing and still bringing in new readers across a diverse map. Between 2017 through 2018 the full series of FRENCH TOAST, consisting of the four books in the series, plus two other independent collections will be published. During this time B.W. Evans will be dedicating majority of his time to writing his children stories that have been told to children for over thirty years. A man of determination and strength who has worn many hats, but one he has never taken off is that of a writer.
SICK LIT MAGAZINE 