Saturday, October 15, 2016

shimmer of street wet eyes

the brusque tone of the wind
as he remarks among the aspens
their faded truncated ponchos
lifting and falling

the sugar coated land
icing everywhere over the cake of it
while the pudding of the marsh
suctions away at the gravel path

dimples of ice     pockmarks of snow
the face of the grasses worn and battered
chinks of light in the fence of night
paint chips falling to the floor       shimmer of street    wet eyes 

cast about for illusions
these are early days yet
the geese have mounted their carousel
and rounded the corner to vanish into other landscapes

what's left are the tidy tops of coneflowers
limp green stalks and leaves
polished walls of ice    the silver skins of the clematis
and the hanging string of water from their vines 

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