Saturday, November 17, 2012

Vanitas Folia

Leaves quickly fall
now that November
is nearly done. 

From behind a glass door
I watch the dry storm,
blanket the ground,

Useless appendages
liabilities in the wind,
cast-aways await
the hollow scraping
of my wide rake.

Yet in the tree
hope for reprieve, 
wave and rush 
sure that bright color
can distract, delay death
with brilliant 

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