Clouds falling into line,
falling into beat with the rest of the world.
Gentle brushes of white
on a wide canvas of baby blue.

Against that: red
within reds. Yellows among gold.
Oranges, greens, browns
from one to the other end.

Fluttering the colors: a whisper.
Crisp and invigorating. Listen.
It speaks a warning
of the cold white coming.

With the whisper: a murmur.
Persistent. Gay or taunting?
I could never decide
for the language of rivers
is impossible to transcribe.

Privy to the murmur: a girl.
Wide, brown eyes like shutters.
Click, click, click. Memories
of autumn and her mysteries.

via Vegetal


2 thoughts on “Autumn

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