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Poetry: Somehow the days

Somehow the days
Shrink around the edges, leaving only
Barest bones encased within the burnished cellophane
Of poplar corpses.

Somehow the nights
Engorge with crispy northern winds,
Inhaling the heading whisperings
Of hibernating dawns.

October rises,
And somewhere grassy fingers crack in shadows
Of November, mourning August and September, as petal tears
Slip and sigh, sigh and die.

Somewhere, the geese
Surrender to the harvest moon, honeyed honks
Dripping from the corners of their retreat
They say, Follow us

To the end of ends.
No one dares.  Familiar defenses are entrenched, while
Somewhere, frost flexes its reach within
The deepening fog.


Filed under: Poetry, Writing

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Just a blogger, photographing a little, writing a little, and talking to my dogs a lot. In other words, whistling far and wee.


      • I was unclear, I think – I meant I understand, because I too have fallen behind on reading everyone else’s work, in addition to falling behind on my own posting. For example, I am literally typing this comment on my phone from a doctor’s office.

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