Red

from afar, leaves like uncounted catatonic fires huddled close pinned to the chill air a pointillist’s love affair with a hundred shades of red the ground is a fresh wound, edgeless a breeze worries the boughs stokes the hanging flames into quivering crimsons scarlets vermilions renegade ambers a slow burn resumes accompanied by a susurrus of sighs a dirge for a season and the summer sky, now turned slate, is cremated