Pieces of Eight (2020)

Brrrr

My heart has longed for the sharp air
That tingles in my nostrils and makes
them blow clouds and bubbles
the color of morning’s frosted grass

I slogged through soggy August’s heat
It hung on my shoulders like wet cement
thrown off now by Autumn’s vigorous chill
I become drunk on the scent of things fermenting


Written for EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT
Poems of eight lines