Autumnal light crawls
beneath the smallest bones,
the ones we covet most.
It sleeps around us
when long nights find the circle
and we, the last shadow of gold,
refuse to fall.
We cling to the highest branches
and they, in turn, they sing us
into dream.

I love this one in its entirety, Kate. Such a haunting, shimmering piece this is, my Friend. Thank you for entering with such delicate finesse, Sweetie. Good luck, Poet.



9 old applause
