The Birds Of Autumn Poem by james watkin
The Birds Of Autumn
Off the mountain, and under
A foggy cover
Swoops a devouring, of crude
Colouring, once burning through.
Of one vehemence of sound
With the air, unbound:
The claws of the wind, the blind
Unreason of its impulse.
In their inclement grip snaps
Summer's wand, that taps
To luscious readiness, trees.
Bleeding magic Autumn lies.
Thursday, May 30, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: autumn,bird
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5/18/2024 4:16:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Magic autumn lies, great write