In autumn, brown beacons nose their seeds skyward

  Dead star   Lost is that light year when my star glowed, swelled, exploded: –   Now walking across the metal bridge morning’s grapefruit rays Break the breathing night To touch yellow leaves, Rustle skirts on trees. Brown beacons nose their seeds skyward before the snow.   Lost is the night That held myContinue reading “In autumn, brown beacons nose their seeds skyward”