we are autumn
by
Jesse Wanamaker
—
last modified
Jan 27, 2008 09:49 PM
we are autumn,
sometimes bare branches,
sometimes the light
streaming through in liquid glass.
on the edge of the clearing,
some gold leaves hold to reptilian trunks.
we the last thistles from a clover nest.
we are
sometimes the fallen pears,
sometimes the cradling hands.
rings speak through their scratches
and tarnish that catch the light.
we are the skins brushed off,
the sweet flesh with juices quenching.
