The glaring green leaves cling to their false lives.
They whisper their imaginary self righteous recital
A breeze offers intimate intonation
the bravest warms considerably, accepting
abandoning the tittering siblings
whom are dressed in last season’s fashions.
Not to be outdone, the sisters join the fray
Out come the plaid jackets and flannel shirts
Apples burst the buckets, turn to mulled cider
Fall squashes, root vegetables, homemade soap
the scent of subtle decay burning in offering pyres
remnants of summers hopes setting in worldy sunset.
This is beautiful.
Thank you. I was reading one of yours when I thought of this.