The turning of the year

Another poem in straight forward rhyming couplets, iambic pentameter.

The turning of the year

Today we start the slow slide into night,
the balance shifts to dark from summer light,

and how are we to know to find our way,
once winter winds send all green paths astray?

When songbirds flock and flit among the trees
about the house, leaves thinning in the breeze,

with gentle chatter, reassuring words,
that mean, perhaps, there’ll still be seeds for birds,

when silver frosts the nodding stalks, their gold,
once honey-sweet’s a memory grown old.