scimitars,
cemeteries and the thinning veils
Autumn
is coming
every
night now
is
arching low
deliberate
songs
that
dance toward
velvet
charms along
the
curling yellowed
bled
edges of the forests
beyond
the fences
the
sweet smells of death
are
everywhere that
the
gated entrances are
in
the stoned mosses
with
a kept cling of dew
on
the ready to become
misty
envelopments
while
you step toe to ball
to
heel with those glances
over
the shoulder keeled
as
you keep walking toward
what
you want to do
the
bare turns
the
whistled gravity
symphonies
in the trees
shedding
their leaves
are
those spirits
that
no longer cage
their
stardust with bones
and
can find
where
your enjoyment is too
so
why not smile
in
the dark and find me
there
along side you
pulling
swords
from
stones again
EJR
©
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