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October Stroll


A walk in the mist

The morning after

A storm, tree branch

Bark, leaves litter

Wet streets, hawks

And owls stalk fallen

Prey and peck boughs

Seeking death, preserving

Life, slipping in and out of

Cloud cover and sprinkling

Drizzle, cigarette smoke wafts

Over morning coffee, softens the

Dampening of tired bones

And drifting thoughts,

Unfinished poems and

Fleeting faces, faded friendships

Reading, tracing, weathered

Inscriptions of one’s own

Epitaph, dates indistinguishable

Against the granite, some thoughts

Better left to the wind that sweeps the

Rain-soaked branches croaking under

Their own weight, accompanying

The boot steps punctuating the

Way, a pause, a break, a rapid

Succession next to a stream that

Gurgles over protruding stones

Jagged, yet slick and all so

Picturesque amid the treacherous

Footing should one dare cross.

Best to admire and move alongside

The flow than go against the current

Of life at its moment of transition into

Full season.

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