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Wednesday, October 22, 2008

The Dead Leaves Gather


You can't see the grass;
Leaves cover all hints of green;
Pine cones on the road




Stripped of all their leaves

Spider branches grasp the sky.
Smell of burning wood.






Scraping in the woods
Chicken bob, peck, duck and chatter

Always satisfied.


She carries a bag,
The old lady with the leaves;
Pours them on the ground.

Reclining dead log,
Now a host for living things,
Verdant in the woods.

In the cracked tree stump
Pine needles, moss and darkness--
Forest mystery.







On the the thin tree limb
Translucent leaves still hold on
As if they're confused.



The dead leaves gather
In tree crotch, stump and on stone;
Wherever they're caught.









Shiny black berries
Hang from the bare bramble bush.
They do not tempt me.










Visor in the bush
Stuck firmly in the brambles.
How did it get there?




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