Once Upon An Autumn Night
The spool of twine grows thicker
with the winding up of days,
the garden vines, yellowed, hug the ground;
the air, intoxicated with over ripened fruit,
grows loud with strident voices, the insects' final song.
The cooled night breeze shoves us gently toward the fire
and the love-large harvest moon bends low to kiss her dying child.
Copyright, September 6, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
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