Wind and Fire and Chocolate
by Vaughn Neeld

Wind, bending around
the corner of the house
sends leaves rattling,
ascending, spiraling,
filling frigid air
with golden plunder.

Aloft, clouds scud, scurry,
hurry to snuggle together
against the southern sky.

Sipping a chocolate dream
of warm content
(logs, some too green,
crackle and hiss),

I hear the rhythm
of waning days—
revel in the bliss
of waxing age.

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