Cinquain
Seasoned
Yellow
and red leaves dance
in autumn’s cool crisp air
as I stroll past royal purple
asters.
Twilight
of life beckons
and I no longer rush
yet enjoy watching red squirrels
scamper.
Lanterne
Far From the
Truth
gray
billows
from smokestacks—
politicians
spew
Tetracyts
Shuffleboard
cracked
concrete—
change shifting
with the seasons
that calls for continuous adjustments
Read
Additional Poems by Karen O'Leary
Karen O'Leary,
US—Free Verse:
Says the Witch With the Broom
Read
Karen O'Leary's haiku in the
"leaves Haiku Thread
