April 2019

in the fall from grace
terminal velocity
out of a leaf's reach

past her prime
she puts her golden heart
out to pasture

the stillness . . .
when words for devastation
come to their end


Weird Laburnum

autumn flies—
a wringing of hands
as death nears

air moves in
to fill the unsaid
within the words


Weird Laburnum

dawn    —   distinct
instinct —   indistinct
dusk    —   extinct