by Janet Butler


Leaves fall to burst in momentary brilliance
reds and golds that dry
to scrappy tones of brown
lifted by winds
in swirls of desolation
before disintegration
and death.

Eyes watch but see nothing
of winter waiting,
of blue shadows on fresh snows,
of silent days tendering a heavy heart -
instead, the moment, charmed by a sunset flare,
drifts to times that were
to summer nights of
a thousand and one delights
whispered in shadows
that merge in star-chipped eternities
then to hours of longing,
waiting the footsteps that bounced from inky skies
to fill the universe
but were only heartbeats pounding the ragged truth
on moonlit streets that shouted
lies, lies, lies....


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