Autumnal Equinox
A glimpse
Beneath the shroud of clouds
first snow on peaks
Through rain the season changes
In the fullness of the Harvest moon
inside me, turning
straining at my branches
as the quakies shimmer
silver green to gold,
I would speak of my mother,
a daughter now alone
harvesting her words,
ripening, longing
for another
conversation
A glimpse
Beneath the shroud of clouds
first snow on peaks
Through rain the season changes
In the fullness of the Harvest moon
inside me, turning
straining at my branches
as the quakies shimmer
silver green to gold,
I would speak of my mother,
a daughter now alone
harvesting her words,
ripening, longing
for another
conversation