The frost is first
Dazzling shapes
Dripping and sticking to glass and daring blades of grass
Don’t you miss the summer rush?
The egging on of nakedness
and tossing and turning down hills
Don’t you miss the lightning bugs?
Their light show?
The frost is first
long before my weary eyes wake
Crunching crystalized leaves,
I’m making my way
I’m starting my day.
I enjoy the bare bones,
the start of autumn at last.
The frosty blades of grass,
the chill in the air.
I enjoy the solemnity
the changes colors,
death and rebirth in the making
I miss the summer nights
But I love the quiet autumn days
the crunching leaves
the quietly chirping birds
It’s peace while waking, seeing life transform.
2 responses to “Bare Bones”
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A tiny stained-glass rainbow
in a star.
Your heart,
writing itself through the frost.
Magic.Sometimes,
even the chill seems to egg on some nakedness of its own…an unpeeling,
where I lose the layers,
the hopes
and the terrors…where I disappear,
let myself freeze…and crack open like a blossom in the spell.
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Like a blossom in the spell
drinking in some kind of radical nectar
Rose petals durst to dart
through thorn wrought branchesLosing the layers
one swore to take to the narrow houseMissing the fat fruit
sweet medicine in our dreams
It hung limply on sparse branchesThe terrors left us
as the faint winds dissipated furtherSwallowing it down
we dreamt again
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