Autumn
The trees weave and drape,
cushioning heaven's weight --
While I slosh through sun
and leaves.
I am in it --
I am of it --
And not missing a thing.
Winter Cattails
Autumn remainders --
Last hearthlight
in the form of leaves,
without warmth but the
breath in my body -- and
a bronzing horizontal sun.
While clapboard shadows
claim a farmhouse porch,
a faint thread of smoke
visibly ascending from
the spalling chimney.
And winter's cattails rise --
upright & backlit.
Published by
Martha T. Terrell
© Martha T. Terrell and WordShelter.com, 2018 - 2025. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Martha T. Terrell and WordShelter.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
View all posts by Martha T. Terrell
WordShelter.com 