Autumn trees, leak your leaves.
Quicken the equinox of knowing—
For something is growing
In the void where once my foot held firm—
Now my feet are chilled.
Rain golden teardrops down,
Litter a masterpiece of reds,
Could I but stick out my
Tongue to taste
Understanding and fate,
I would welcome the
Stripping of trees,
The disrobing of time.
All these images mingle – mindless
Is she who creates them,
Blames them,
Becomes them.
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