Kit Kelen #840 - in a pumpkin mist

840

in a pumpkin mist

this silver morning

cooler in the after fall

trees pale sketching

fenceposts for practice

so sing

from a pond

when - wings away -

all eyes lift

with this fright

come insects of another season

and we are otherworldly then

where every flower

speaks to seed

if only we'll let rot

now fire thinks of us

and all the corners call

thin disc to see for it's-not-moon

it's only then we're struck with

to see our works and days

a setting off for up above

where heaven's just

as clouds grow to their own confusion

now all the sun's collected

in a pumpkin patch come blue