poem for October, 2013

When  leaves whirl skyward it’s October.

The air bites.  Winds wrap trees.


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Fading leaves.

Yellow Month.


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Clearings empty of laughter and feasts

laid out on weathered boards.


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In the scattered light darkness hides within the glow.


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The storms begin with sounds from unseen places.


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A field left empty.  A fire lit.

A thick growth of trees at Winter-Full-Moon.