A Touch of Autumn

White-wings

 

For months the White winged Doves

have gathered in the yard

with morning appetites, afternoon

thirst and a blue ring

around their orange eyes through which

the summer threads its

infinite soul. There is war

east of hope in the world

                                        and rain

wandering lost in the sky. There are

sales at the local stores

and red green red lights

flashing at intersections

between good luck and bad. There’s

a hawk who wakes up early

and patrols the urban streets. There’s

a cloudbank building

                                 with a heavy heart

and doves present

then gone. Away they go

to drought’s end,

drinking moonlight on the wing.

                            --David Chorlton

A Touch of Autumn

She whistles through a blade of grass,

      sharp and serrated,

and does not shudder

      when it cuts her lip:

blood and breath to call him, to bind them.  

The wind bends tree boughs low

      like lovers dancing,

as he wraps ethereal arms around her,

      red lips marking him

and the leaves flush and curl, before falling.

                            --Shelly Jones

distant sirens...
in moonlight the barbed wire 

dripping blood

                            --Chen-ou Liu

power cuts—

the first frost moon

out stays its welcome

                                --Adele Evershed

a sickle harvest moon,

two dead bleached cottonwoods

tuning forks of the poors’ harvest

                           --Jeff Burt

recoil 

the Hunter’s Moon

still in the buck’s eye

                            --Joshua St. Clair

eerie autumn moon

even my wooden owl sleeps

with one eye open

                            --Dana Clark