SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

Feeling Autumnal

Discarded,
Brown and rumpled,
Slotted and sorted
By dewy blades of green;
Refugees cloister,
Purposed to mother,
Soaking the arriving
Radiance.
I feel an autumnal tide
washing me out of summer.
Humidity shudders.
Breezes brush lines of laundry
Where a child once played
In fading light.
Mother calls me, too.



Beauty can be coaxed from ugly mystery,
A process that might frighten you.