Autumns New Fire
Autumn, …whirls in like a strange angel
Its touching is sacred and cold.
All gloriously bathed in frostweed down, purple ironweed and goldenrod;
Burning hues that glow in the dusty hollow where the wingless live and have been silent.
A seasoned, ash winter will relinquish and venerate to a winged spirit of the freshly awakened birth-
Tommie Flannery Baskis- Writings by Duskflyer Vision-2016