Autumnal
Smoky
mornings drifting
like woodsmoke on the breeze...
mushrooms are white buttons in grass
dew-damp.
Snapping
berries from barbs
my fingers sunset-stained;
the puce juice of drupelet fruit now
bleeding.
Swollen
the pregnant pods
sway on summer-scorched stems -
seed-heavy wombs that will soon birth
winter.
Goodbye
the winds soft-sigh...
a crackling cremation
of crimson as leaves die, skies cry
goodbye...
Copyright © Charlotte Puddifoot | Year Posted 2023
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