Autumn in the Wings
by D. R. James

Twigs’ lush medium is converting to
calligraphy, the dismissal of leaves
to launch its winter forewarning. Laden
with late acorns, squirrels chuck-chuck meaningful
memos, counter-balance full bellies, tails
unfurled. I am embracing–keepsaking–
the unscrolling calendar, harvesting
days tossed my way, the prodigious burden
of nows. Hunters will soon bruise this calm, but
until then it’s choirs of jays, cranes, and crows.



–first published in Front Porch Review



 

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