Autumn draws its breath, down the gulley, The air is cold, water skinny Reluctantly, tipping crows beneath The caustic depths. Lament only, in ochre rich beams- My feet are wet and weary, Scuffling forward, bubbling whitened brooks, Wash my dark away. Corroding, dropping snails. Underneath Its carapace, feet heavy, The creamy broth is understated, Regretfully.
© copyright Eve Redwater 2011