Come Autumn, the pigment of the leaves dramatically changes from green to fiery reds, yellows, and oranges. The Phoenix burns. Leaf by leaf, the trees loosen their grip. And as the leaves scatter to the forest floor, so do they become the fertile soil which will bring new life come spring. Again the Phoenix will rise, as it ceaselessly does, year and year again.
Read MoreInto Autumn
Into Autumn’s well
I dip my chalice
and I drink deep.
Leaves crumble in my mouth.
I taste ancient blood
a cold, wet, bitter tang
& a sense of foreboding.
What did I dare
come here
to do?