autumn dies


autumn dies
burnished brass
in eastern skies

snow lies thick as licked lamb fleece
and the world is at peace
no more the madness of growth
as earth releases long held breath

and november’s sun illuminates the pastoral scene
winter’s gold and copper gleam
in the valley lower down
where ice refelects on ploughed ground

but up here twisted roots of history
freeze on knotty holly trees

-dave kavanagh

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