autumn
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Autumn’s Lament: A Sonnet

It’s been a bit since I’ve shared any poetry, but my oak trees are crimsoning so I couldn’t resist scribbling a sonnet about the beauty of autumn, the ugliness of dying, and the hope of resurrection. And yes, “crimsoning” is a word. Isn’t it lovely? It conveys the progressive blush of the autumn foliage and… Continue reading
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The Philanthropist

He began the fall in wealth, His arms hanging heavy with green, new-money Made in spring. It was the cash that grows on trees: Easily spent and easily made, Budded by summer and Minted by the gold-standard sun. Investing at Autumn’s asking, He lays a few leavings in her chill-bone hands But scatters the rest… Continue reading
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