As of yet, an untitled poem

Wet leaves with cold air
Ice and snow appearing in my garden with more frequency
Preparing for what is really to come.

Soft chair with quiet warmth
World is changing out my window, as expected yet still surprising
Observing what happens every year.

Accidental collections become apparent
Accumulated objects crowd in as they grow quite in spite
Realizing a change has to come.

Urgency presses upon
Subtle nagging thoughts and reasonings set on repeat
Wondering if they speak the truth.

Urgency presses on
Imagination filled with ideas that begin to shout from across the room
Been waiting patiently, wantonly.

I pick up my brush.

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