Adapt

The wind whistles,
Strong and steady,
A slightly colder breeze,
For this change, no one is ready.



The leaves leave home,
Mature and set,
Embarking on an adventure,
That they won’t soon forget.



The water hibernates,
Still and sound,
Hardening its defenses,
Water becomes one with the ground.



The sun takes a vacation,
Droopy and tired,
Slips off into slumber,
Hot weather has expired.



The clouds carve ice cubes,
Different designs on each one,
Gently dropping them down,
Winter has now begun.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741