Shorter days


Leaves scatter
at each step
like glory
and falling.

The sky empties itself
of color
from gray to gray
inviting neither
joy nor gloom.
Paint splashed randomly
across a leaden canvas
that tastes like life
and death.

Breath stings.

The earth itself
heaves in giant gasps,
for what will soon be lost,
for what
will soon
be found.


What dies
will rise.
A dormant planet
and waits
while musty smells
and stunning contrast
fill chilled ether.

And the music of the leaves
sings in the wind
in rising crescendo
only to fade
into the soil
from which it was born.


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