autumn’s heaviness; how cold
the awful shadow creeping
tree to tree
winter awaits me

the harmony of the north
thrown into the flats
every shard of light
a half note too low

i’m walking with the wind
hand in hand
& some strange agony it whispers—
i can’t find the plying pity
the soothing soft
it’s all howling in a dribble
of snot and spit

the din splitting forth
the grey mourning
i feel that last moment
when all await
the last breath
when all know the burial plot
is welocming the coming cold


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