Crimson clouds hang low.
The day’s embers glow softly,
burning down to dusk.
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
The night air’s cold hand
reaches down and pulls my breath
in shards from my chest.
Waves, softly lapping
Dappled light wanders.
Across the lush, verdant grass
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
I go to freeze on dark tides
I wake before three.
for another’s riches
A tendril of smoke Rises from her cigarette As she sits alone
Autumn’s final leaf Lets go it’s hold on winter And portends the spring
Tall meadow grasses Tousled by a humble breeze Whisper in concert
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