Autumn Descent

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Autumn, and the trees—

leaves flee their fingers

abreast a passing gust

like robins, sleeping in flight

and resting in battered October meadows,

the pavement of the valley floor.

 

Yellow and red bleed into one another,

raining into our startled eyes;

devoured by life.

 

With social instinct,

our faces mimic the expressions

of inanimate things.

 

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© 1991, 1993, 2004, Dan Jensen <djensen@kaweah.com>