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Autumn Library
dawn blinks—
saffron spilling
over ridge-lines marigold
plaiting the first veins of leaves
air tastes of dew and oak
crisp on the tongue
frost caresses lips
sun touches frozen moss
clouds vellum blushed with ochre
tremble above waking trees
the woods inhale—maple beech ash
folios loosening in gentle flight
spiraling sentences into currents
hills bend beneath layered chapters
meadows kissed in honeyed amber
a squirrel startles
scurries across twigs
lakes mirror sky
stone flakes slipping
tiny splashes like punctuation
ripples spiraling like footnotes
smoke drifts from chimneys
cinnamon etching air
into loose paragraphs
geese scribe the horizon—
black strokes through viscous light
wings scripting distance
a sentence that begins
and begins
merry winds—
custodians page-turners
flutter across sky hill lake
clouds fray to parchment
hills darken to clove
lakes gloss with frost
i lift one leaf—
its veins a compressed library
of marigold sienna auburn
i release it—
wind carries it tumbling
a thought in passing flight
afternoon beckons
golden light braiding branches
shadows stretch across slopes
lakes trembling with leaf-fall
everything turns pages
reordering the archive
with invisible fingers
evening gathers—
sunset flourishing amber
spines of light warmth diffused
into autumn’s margins
fields fold into winding hills
exhaling the days warmth
the blood moon ascends—
a pale index at book’s edge
calling night into order
illuminating every scattered page
the library sleeps beneath it
perfumed with wet leaves pine
cinnamon smoke rustling faintly
in dreams
nothing is lost—
every tint every flicker
archived in endless margins
circling spiraling alive
an autumn day
leafing through
season’s palette
Copyright ©
Daniel Henry Rodgers
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