A chill in the air, a slowing down, the gradual browning of the earth, but first, there is a party, a celebration, a carnival, complete with red and orange lights, ochre and gold, glowing in sunshine and shimmering even through fog and mist, and, like a carnival, the spectacle is too soon over, the performers have packed up and gone, leaving behind only their skeletal remains and memories.
fermenting leaves—
from sweaters on the line
a scent of camphor
from sweaters on the line
a scent of camphor
by Adelaide B. Shaw
Millbrook, New York
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