I am naked here,
arms stretched wide.
I’ve removed my apron,
my soles are rooted,
sandals tossed aside—
shaking my papery skins
of ochre, amber, umber,
deep chestnut brown
whistling down
as autumn storms
cause them to do
a little tune,
wild and flush,
like milk, like honey,
like money, or better—
the sound
of the storm-crested
rustling of two.
this is lovely, Jen. good to read you ~ M
ReplyDeleteGorgeous.
ReplyDeleteWho knew trees were having such a good time? :-)
ReplyDeleteI will remember to spend more time with the trees.
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautifully written. Love the autumn hues.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous! The trees seem to be having a jolly good time.
ReplyDeleteA wildly sweet, heady poem of autumnal passion. Love it!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed the parallel here between the trees undressing in autumn but also the storm created by two people as suggested in the final stanza. Or maybe that's how I want to interpret it. A sexy poem, nonetheless! :)
ReplyDelete