Season’s Turn

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The season turns
On the imperceptible
Reddening of the hip

And the spider fattened
On the line, apparent
In clear September-time,

And leaf-fall’s tiredness,
Its threadbare
Tattered drift towards gold

And matter shed,
Released in the crispening
Of daylight.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016

3 thoughts on “Season’s Turn

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