No color remains in the cord grass.
that grows so tall in the marsh.
The leaves are gone from the hickory tree,
the weather is getting harsh.
The mullet have all departed,
and moved away from the coast.
I no longer see the fisherman
around the outside oyster roast.
Gone are those days of bathing
in the warm undulating sea.
It is now time for the ibis to depart,
and the egret all agree.
The Winter solstice is upon us,
the sun is low in the sky.
The old year is passing away,
and like all things it too must die.
Look not at the year that is behind us,
turn around, look forward not sad.
A fresh new year, unspent and unspoiled
awaits all those hearts that are glad.
Written in December 1975.
Some things never change.