Poem #67: Bitter Hours
Bitter Hours
Today, autumn sprinkled
her first bitter hours.
Summer's lingering green
leaves drift on
a chill wind
—less than,
more than before—
shifting restlessly until
they are gone.
On this morning,
the cool air tousled dryly
amongst bare,
rattling branches,
and settled in heaps
against the evenings
to come.
Like a shawl,
Winter’s stillness,
enfolds the dawn,
whispering of days
aching with airless brilliance.
© 2013, Hannah L. Six
Note: Another remix, this time from 2004
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