autumn
where the seeds are blowing to the falling still
and sunlight spiders the pine cones fill
upon the limestone in a lichen sun
all that salts a coastal walk begun
step the fungi lightly on october’s fields
where inquisitiveness wrapt in hushedness kneels
and dry grasses to the thistle rosette yields
the joy at the fullness that autumn feels
long-beamed the cooling setting sun
a crimson lancet across the calmest bay
warm rocks lament unrequited fun
as with tears in our eyes we swim away
hushed shadowed long and homeward bound
what was lost has now at last been found
and down all winters frozen paths
we will think of spring around glowing hearths
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