“The woods decay, the woods decay and fall.”
-Tennyson, “Tithonus”
Leaves, your last flare of red
blazes like an angry flame,
a dying star.
The fall is full of steady flame.
The wind blows out the red trees,
a birthday candle.
Metal imitates the fall
by oxidizing, rusting slowly.
An infection
Neither fiery nor fierce,
rust is a virus of time, of dust,
an age spot.
It's sort of sad and desolate.
ReplyDeleteThe wind blows out the red trees,
ReplyDeletea birthday candle.
very beautiful.