Isn’t it pretty
Autumn clouds ablaze reddish
Trees caught fire below
Sit outside with me on my back porch
Discover skeeters and flies buzzing
Life humming to welcome the day
Starlings flying through, startling
The breath held within
When a slight back twist
And planting of legs again
Apparently it’s 11:19 a.m.
Like on every other appliance
That sets automatically to noon
After plugging it in when you move
I’ve been working on this piece for a while now and can’t determine if I want it to be a song or a poem. For now, it’s set up as a song, but I can see it going either way. Let me know if you think it should be a poem or a song in the comments.
While trees are still green,
The lightest of all breezes
Pushes brown leaves gently
Over the roof’s edge to be seen.