September breathes her last golden sigh,
leaves softly through the broken-latched door
and does not look back.
Scattered leaves sound like claws
on the pavement, coppered pine needles
fill the spaces left by drying grass.
Spiderwebs span the walkways,
dragonflies light on ripened blackberries,
does all death smell so smoky and sweet?
beautiful close to this.
Posted by: Susandaniels1966 | 01 October 2012 at 08:36
"dragonflies light on ripened blackberries..." Lovely. Enjoyed this poem very much. Thank you for joining us! I look forward to reading more.
Posted by: Morgan Dragonwillow | 01 October 2012 at 10:25