Fall Forward

I love the smell of burning peat in autumns freshening airs;
Love the briskness of squirrel’s retreat,
The buzz-saw warnings of solstice tide.
Smell the mortise of forest offerings;
Of nature’s regenerative hum,
Burning molecular metamorphosis where
Peat is at once friend, ally, and foe.

In autumn’s freshening airs,
Autumn’s last dance ahead of winter’s stale stare;
Freshening scenes of a retiring sleeper turns
Airs of assuagement and the order,
Fall in
Fall forward.

Fall Forward

galaticos

Joined February 2008

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