Thursday, October 29, 2009

October Morning

Dissolving poems swirl in eddies
near the edge of dreaming.

Pluvial drumming at dawn
plays cryptic cadence on windows.

Words tumble out,
pour forth from the heavens.

A squall of poetry
runs in rivulets outside,

a skeleton of a leaf
clings to the oak branch
for one last dance.

Wake up.
Tilt your head open.
Drink it all in.

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