Waning
The days are shifting, autumn-red to winter-blue.
The sturdy walls of stone ensure our cozy ease.
The blazing fires warm our chilly bodies through,
and we await the setting up of Christmas trees.
The days are shifting, autumn-red to winter-blue.
The sunlight drains away, the nights stretch endlessly
for fugitives and refugees. The frost bites through
the stoutest coat, and shelter is a leafless tree.
We Poetry Class students were instructed to write two quatrains, using our choice of one of five supplied prompt lines as the first line of each quatrain, but developing each quatrain in a different direction.