tight as a mouthful
the smithy was empty
and the tree near it had fallen
and no one had expected it
the sunken sun had made a stand
with desperate gaiety
swept through sleep
to break the night
The Autumn children
like caged birds
counted the crocus stalks
and for footfalls of a misbegotten
soothsayer
Copyright © Antony Glaser | Year Posted 2024
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