Archive
09/23/09 - (2)
Acorns
Fall is the tepid gusts Rustling the oak trees' leaves above me, Snapping acorns from their limbs, Which cause a plangent commotion As they plummet earthward, Disturbing attendant silences, Pelting the porch roof, Relentlessly thumping the ground — Explosions nobody around this shoreline Can possibly miss, Even if they're not listening. After all, fall is all about falling, isn't it?
09/23/09 - (2)
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