a coarse wrapping paper
i uncover
with my ink-smudged hands
i expect nothing but bleakness,
faded maple leaves, deadheaded flowers
in this red poppy box
night descends by 5 pm
darkness becomes a womb,
a church, smell of incense for prayers for the dead-
(less 1 hour, 30 candles)
yet on first day, flicker of frost
whitest of fluff rains down
this is nature's quartet: winter
an aperture
where the soul song of maple trees
trills with cries of the geese & gulls-
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - November Poetics, hosted by Sanaa Rizvi. We had our first frost in November 1st. Thanks for your visits and comments.
