It’s piled here
then flying there-
there’s gold and copper
everywhere!
It swirls and twirls
a funnel wreath
and crackles through
the air beneath
the pewter backdrop
of Earth’s death-
choreographed
by November’s breath.
(© November 2007 Amsterdam, the Netherlands)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem