welcome to the waning of the harvest moon
we're beginning our descent now
time runs faster as the dark grows longer
life measured out
in rabbit heartbeats
shivering in the snowshoe fields
tiny muscle
drumming
beating back the silent cold
november is wrapped in her traditional robes
of razorwire and wet autumn leaves
bone and rust
newts nest like coiled black drakes
in rotting logs
and the stags slice the fingers of fog
with their crowned antlers
this is the time
to walk with the ghosts
you couldn't bury by halloween
to fall into the void
of distance
of love's memory
and to remember
what whispers in fall
sings in spring
and to listen
as the world
...sighs...
this too will pass




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