September

It is the smell of leaves and the sound of crickets and the brush of wind. . It is the sunshine, tilted like a ramp into the sky. . It is the clear, crisp edges of the world washed clean with the rain. . It is the stillness under drifting leaves calling us to rest.

Weep with Me, September

Weep with me, September. The embers of these days burn with wakened grief— the thief came to kill, and all will not be well for a while yet. Where leaves and tears and people fell, we knelt, gaping, trembling, broken on these tokens of evil— my will and mind, lisping, your crisp, clean blue, the […]

Surrender

Blow, gentle wind, blow— across the burdened trees, and bend the branches low. The fury of the sun scorched what he had won before his reign was done. And all the leaves are charred and doomed, but clinging hard to the life that left them scarred. Fall, weary leaves, fall, so the wind […]

Autumn

On aged and crispy pages of September, She loves to write her name with sweet finesse, In long and swirling script around the trees; Unseen, but not unfelt, just as the breeze That forms the flutt’ring train of Autumn’s dress– An auburn trail, enchanting to remember.

Coming to America

Photo Credit: Isaac Talbert, Fresh Exposure Images I come to town inside a ship of steel, with all the belch of smoke and stench and people pushing at my back in fear, with officers in coats and New York frowns. I step inside a sea of brown and black, by stretching towers tall with steel […]

melenoria