hear the sound of every rusted, blunted mace

as they greet and meet  through gravity’s lack of grace,

each at thirty two point two,

the fateful rate of this heaving season

where fruits misplace a summer’s trust to kiss the dirt

and, where they fall, corrode and stall the wheels of love

for those we find untouchable

while yet our hearts may still enmesh, b...

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rott  ing

birch es

like  to

bacc o

summ er

fall    ing

green now

yell      ow

so man

y  oaks

so  few

a corns

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Z, is it merely a typo for X,

a phone pushed too hard

or misplaced fingers on qwerty keyboard?

Or does Z mean sleep tight?

Alas I can never sleep as tight

as when I finally hold you in my arms

and wake to sunshine even in a perilous Pennine Autumn.

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The autumn is coming,

The August is charming,

But the rain often darkens the sky,

And I know, you certainly love me

As I once long ago loved you.

Why the yearning

Is burning inside you?

Why are you so sad when with me?

Why in August the dreams

Can’t be sweet as in spring?

The rowan is reddish

But not for the anguish

Rain drops k...

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