Today begins the slide
the spiral
into the twilight season,
daylight whipping past
like sharp-edged petals in the wind.
Most of the leaves are
gone, exposing
winter's framework of branch
upon branch, bone
upon bone. The overgrown grass
blades tell stories to each other
in the dark, remembering summer's scatters
of light, long steaming days
and warm rains, pushing them higher
They are bent like old men,
waiting for frost.
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