Tuesday, October 18, 2022



I get a little paranoid sometimes.

Sometimes it seems like the trees

are all looking at me

judging me 

whispering in the wind 

along the forest edge

with soughing passivity 

all the things everyone else knows

I ought not to have done

Autumn quiets those whispers.

I see the truth of the matter

as they flash orange and yellow.

Ominous jaundiced illness

Hang dog looks

Desperate clinging beauty

A silent inchoate mourning

They’re holding on as long as they can

Not their fault

Programmed to release

It’s only biology

It feels like they’re trying

to break it to me kindly

Maybe they desire my forgiveness

Maybe they deserve it

having done all they could

to halt the inevitable fall

Now displaying caution yellow

Maybe they've already forgiven themselves

Maybe it's a warning


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