Weapons of Autumn

I laid in bed one night. An image came to my head. I had to put it into words

The Weapons of Autumn

 

I’m thinking about New England sunsets

Glowing over Ivy covered

Red brick buildings

And tunnels formed by trees

Hovering over cobblestone throughways

 

Orange and red leaves form

A natural quilt over

Dry, browning grass

Awaiting expiration

 

This is what takes place

In the Celestial Bio dome called

Seasons

 

This is the Season I referrer to as

Natures wake

The changing from the summer dress

Into winters pre cardigan garb

 

Cool breezes keep me vigilant

The night has grown a few hours

My dialogue turn into a frothy mist

Which flows from my chapped sore lips

As I tell stories of summer time folly

 

The moon and I make eye contact

We both share a secret

He tries to read my mind

I let

Him

Author's Note

Something new......

Reviews

[roy mccarthy]

cool write,
very descriptive,
the last stanza is powerful!