Brown Leaves

the morning seems heavy / hard to reconcile / silent orange sunshine slips into my room slanting / somehow out of place / shouldn’t it be painting a pastel pink blue dance across an icy white canvass?

this low golden air / illuminated / frozen / suspended

is it the palpable déjà vu of this gifted moment?

i will rise now / build a fire / take the gift and put it in my pocket

soon the day will sweep in like a warm west wind / scattering the frosty morning like so many brown leaves / what remains is only the impression and the mystery of my existence

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s