Eight views of fall
Amazing poetry by a talented writer. Please read and enjoy.
Gathering of clouds: dusk being
the dark denominator
of autumn equinox and sheets of rain.
Not even the raven can cease to shiver
underneath the shadows from a skein of geese.
Brittle are the stems of oak leaves
clinging to its boughs —
darkly waiting for a pantomime of fall.
The soft hand of a woman, nested
in another hand — ungloved and bared
necessity or autumn equinox?
The way the blue sky is less a promise
than Potemkin village
is the essence of lingering on precipice of Mabon.
Dawn in fall is rub of blood-
shot eyes and weight of canopies on
pillowed leaves pretending to have slept.
The harvest moon
remains on sky, perched as ghost on blue
with whiteness as from bones;
a night that overshadows day.
Inevitable, the gravel path meandering
through fallen leaves cannot tell the secrets,
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