Fall’s Last Stand
A poem for Autumn:
that first white’s fallen
while the last red leaves
her neck and limbs stripped,
she sways and grieves
omens in the whispering wind –
autumn’s shiver
piercing summer gardens
left to whither
let it go to hold it together
and stand with the fall
blinding white and fading light
she endures it all
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By Matt
When not working as a designer, Matt's either reading a book and drinking whiskey or writing a book and drinking coffee.
