Fall Burned Quietly

Fall burned quietly, softly
singeing leaves to yellow,
beige, brown — not fiery
red, not quite yet dead
while a tingly, cold wetness
washed over the canvas
muting the colors even more.
The leaves clung longer
than usual creating a
painting of peace, patience,
quiet, stillness before
the last big blast and blow
leaving skeletons in their
wake asking for whom
the bells toll and a
blackness awaiting the
coming white of a
sarcophagus’ pall.

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