Monday, September 27, 2004The Final HarvestLeaving summer, dusting flecks leaves shriveled, green to gold crumbling beneath heavy feet as marchers drum, nostalgia The air chilled with morning moon fingers numb, anticipation breathes white stalks of bark and birch shedding layers, naked of fruit Vines upon cold concrete wares spread... Sign in to see full entry.posted by MiaElla at 7:53 AM Comments (16) (permalink) |
