This waning Autumn season,
That bursts upon the mindscape
Through the vehicle of landscape
And mingles dazzling elements
Of color, odors, tangled undergrowth,
Where things are lost in each other
And plausible limits vanish,
And with the passage of days,
Or a violent rainstorm—
The Earth is transformed in scarcity,
A stretching silence
Insulated by hoar frost and later snow,
Where color is corralled
Like an old black and white horse
Barely moving against bitter grey of day.
–
Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2010
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