I breathe in
the fall air.
It feels sharp
cold spring steel
tanged
in the smoky fire
of leaves
of burning greenness
of changing.
I know
nothing
will ever be the same
again.
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2 comments:
Nice to see you back. You poetic soul, you.
Hi, Chair. And good to see you, too, out here in the wilderness.
It was a longish dogpaddle but I'm back where I belong. It's near-impossible for us mythological coyotes to bite it, (that way, anyway) but damn, I was waterlogged when I surfed into Key Largo. We shall not speak of friendly Macon County's take on certain hitchhikin' varmints. Or that of the Montana division of the US Border Patrol on hairy quadrupeds sans passports and rabies vaccination certificates.
Think I'm just gonna meditate poetically here for a bit.
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