Thursday, 10 May 2012


Broken November, cindered hell,
Inflamed with Autumn woe,
Drooping skeleton, vacant shell.
Misty mists, grey & blunt,
Not as cold as diamonds in the snow,
Not as warm as beast before fatal hunt.
Just there; silent, hanging, not letting go.
Crystallized, brittle as an old man´s skull.
Feathered wings skulk & dissolve,
Brush, fur & hoof, dream & lull,
Beneath bush & leaf, crisp & dull.
Molten end of fertile years,
To sleep life´s sleep,
To dream death´s dreams,
As war´s bitter bugle sounds, she retreats,
And awaits new birth, life´s new schemes.

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