Rook-haunted woods.
Still skies
Crow-scattered.
Raven time,
Starling time,
Fog-drenched, silent.
A million leaves conjure
A beautiful demise,
Then fall into mud,
Crushed and grateful
For sleep:
Escaping from the growing cold,
This pinching of the candle of light,
The slip of degrees.
Skeleton time,
Unfleshed, sparse.
Silhouettes and shadows
Lost in dream:
Sky-rooted,
The taste of loam
And marl.
simonhlilly 