October's Treasures
In a sky of bluest topaz
I saw the citrine-shattered sun
Glean emeralds from each blade of grass
And gild the elm leaves platinum
Silence, save for the autumn breeze
And in my pockets, not a dime
But do not tell this poet, please
That October’s treasures can’t be mine.
Copyright © Ina Goodling | Year Posted 2023
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