Descend, delicate rain of doom.
Spatter quietly in insistent breeze.
Break, gold and red,
as branches sneeze.
Burn a stack of saddened leaves.
Agitate limbs to nakedness.
You are my fall.
I am your slave until
winter’s uncivilized brawl
wipes life away.
It’s still October.
The glorious hiatus
warms me and then
will rapidly be gone;
a tale re-told.
Kathryn Collins
October 14, 2013...
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