this day has been tired
warm and grey and quiet.
these words can't and won't
circumscribe the proximity
of the visions alight in what you feel.

the leaves whisper their last words
as they let go their branches
singing in the wind.
how is it that they can take
that engulfing glowing beauty and

surrender the agonizing twisting
skeletons, dancing in the dusk
to the brazen fires
that herald the night.