It gives heavy perfume
Dying leaves are
Necks on lips or
Midwest mouth on
Southern hips
Screen doors
We have to shut them soon
Prickly stars do
Same that Mars do
Mange coyote
Sniffs out moon
Sick Sycamore
Bends whispers low
Between thin slats
Nowhere to go
My wooden room
Set fire ablaze to
Fireplace too
Smoke billows in
In summery plumes
Autumn
Runs away
Too soon
i'd be damn if it's yet begun. nostalgic haste. perhaps?
ReplyDeleteI better not be sweating on Halloween. That's all I gotta say.
Delete