Groundhog Autumn

Gorse rusts, brush burns its colors. Time and it’s bustling creatures curls now into pockets and vestibules. Leaf doors open releasing sky to fall as they flame. Hawk-watching crows gather in drifts; see-through hedges appear, yet twigs are still olive and whittled raw. Hawks fly beyond the rooftops. The hedges rattle, we see through to where the wind is barelegged. Campfires smoke in cooling cavities. Autumn flavors its dwindling stores. Mist-warm velvet wombs seed the far unseen. Groundhogs carry sparrow bones from one naked shelf to another.