.post-body entry-content { margin-top: 15px; margin-bottom: 15px; }

Tuesday, November 08, 2016

A Murder of Crows Argue















 A flat harsh sun shines--
Is it an omen today?
What significance?


























Everything seems brown;
Forsythia has no more leaves.
Fall is here at last.

















Collette chews her cud
Staring into empty space;
Then she blows some snot.















Roosters keep crowing;
What agitation have they
This bright morning?

















Even dead leaves glow
When the sun is shining through--
Illumination.














Tree has turned russet;
A murder of crows argue;
Cars zip past swiftly.











Glen is dappled brown
With dead leaves and sunshine--
Fall morning pastel.












Thoughts of election
Have melted into the woods,
Subdued by the trees.












No comments: