YieldAutumn cloaks a darkling soul
In half-truths of vermillion
Crimson, scarlet, amber, gold
Beneath a blue pavilion
Autumn hides its old grey bones
In cupboards filled with snail shells
Skeins of birds and garden stones
Where every half-lit secret dwells
Autumn’s guise is gossamer
Thistledown in parachutes
Rushing waters’ dulcimer
And reed-song veil its bitter fruits
Autumn’s spirit is occult
It offers balmy days’ exult
Then turns to storm, perfidious
Autumn’s altar smells of rain
Leaf-mold, woodsmoke, rot and rust
I yield to darkness in the vein
Disease, decay, and ruined trust
Sunny DayIt's bright
The cool breeze runs
To remind myself
That it is alright.
A gentle hand to
Guide me through the day
Smiling at me from above.
The warmth is a blessing
Of the impurities I feel.
Nature is a sweet bliss
We take for granted.
School busIt rises over the horizon like a leaking,
Creaking, clanking, complaining in the tendrils of cloud grasping at it-
tearing away to rise over yet another hill,
stirring rainbow glinting dew streaks in the asphalt jungle gym.
its garish veneer reflecting the early morning rays harshly,
blinding all who look upon its luminescent varnish.
The brilliant exoskeleton of this marvelous bug reflects its officious innards
Urchin minds weary yet wild,
It has become the symbol of dread,
This simply embellished wreck,
become an enigma within itself as more join its engravings in the back of worn leather seats.
leading to smooth,
gray seats lightly illuminated in the fresh phosphoresce.
If you look closely,
the worn grooves of memories and laughter still linger here,
waiting for the coming recollections to make their mark her
Autumn Day Blowing Winds, floating leaves,
Trees of vibrant hues around,
Throughout the forest there runs
News of what this season brings.
Lasy grasses waving in the wind
They move as waves upon the ocean.
In the warmth its hard to think
That soon the snows will fly.
In the field, hidden by waving grass
A late born kit sleeps in peace
He has been waiting for his mother,
But she’s been gone so long.
The setting sun turns clouds gold
The day is drawing to a fast close
Soon the night will take the forest
Inviting our the children of the night.
A silent step among the grasses,
The kit awakens, knowing mother’s step
After a warm greeting they run
Back to their den, back to its safe arms.
A Breeze For Your ThoughtA summer breeze
Bringing cool rain
An autumn breeze
Reminds the leaves to change
A winter's breeze
Might bring snow
A spring breeze
Will always tell the ground to grow
toss my hair
and caress my face
like only you know how.
i close my eyes
and i lift my head for you -
let me feel your gusty breath upon my skin.
you murmur and growl,
you press forcefully against my chest
and brush your cool fingertips over my sides
and around my thighs.
i arch my back,
i unfurl my tail,
and i open my wings for you;
fill them up,
lift me into the sky,
hold me in your soft embrace.
i am weightless.
like an eagle, i rise in circles,
like a vulture, i quiver from side to side,
over fields and forests and city streets,
like a harrier, i glide,
like a falcon, i dive.
the others do not understand,
as they walk by,
the grin you've stretched across my lips -
they think i am standing still.
it is a secret we share,
you and me and the soaring birds -
perhaps even the clouds -
and no matter what i say,
and no matter how far i stray,
you always return to me
with that same skin-shivering passion,
even when all my other lovers
have gone away.
(© 2014 Ca
AvernoThe mountain was invisible.
Certainly, there was evidence of a mountain’s presence,
But the landform itself was obscured by a thick pall of foliage and alabaster fog.
Although the woods, if not all of the flora, were alive and well,
The mist lent them such a gloomy tinge
That they appeared almost colorless to the naked eye.
Whereas dead and dying trees would be stark and the color of bone,
These austere totems would appear frozen in time,
Such were their stillness and their pallidness.
Even in the sunshine,
Their leaves left a shade
Upon whatever lay below.
No birdsong lingered in the air, nor did any waters splash down the slope.
The elegy of the stillness,
Rang through the air for none to hear.
Underneath the cryptically hale trees
Sat an expanse of undergrowth,
Much like a tangle of grubs beneath a dampened log.
Between the undergrowth and the overgrowth lay the fog,
And beyond all of these lay what was presumably the earth.
Only by kneeling into the mists betwee
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