Thursday, November 24, 2016

A warm scarf

They float one after another
Flakey and fluffy
Cold and sweet to watch

Their white sticks
To the helpless surface
An erasure for a dying autumn
& a memory of a summer passed

They sing quietly their magic
To wipe the hefty canvas clean
Of life & such trivialities
From the human to the machine

A fresh flare for change
They swoosh like erratic flies
Hungry and eager to bite their way
Across the northern skies

They have arrived


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