Autumn

The trees catch fire –
flames flicker in the wind –
gold and red and amber –
and then the nakedness
of branches, ash-grey
against an ash-white sky
and deep deep down
embers are waiting
for a single breath
to leap up fresh and new –
green flames

I’m the host at dVerse tonight – it’s always a thrill to host the quadrille! Our word tonight is “ash”.

At the pebble ridge

All that time we spent

looking for stones –

no, for a stone

the perfect stone,

one small enough

to sit and fit

in your small palm;

maybe cut by a line

something to run

your thumb across;

cool as an ocean

in your pocket.

De is hosting at dVerse, it’s quadrille night, and we poeming about stones.