daggers: the black of crow wings slice through the morning haze
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autumn coast: the hair raising battle between tide and wind
a burning yearning: to unveil the depths of the void
free us from iron shackles of grey with your birdsong
the dance of tides on this moonless night calms the soul
and if you knew the reason why would you drive a stake through the heart of autumn’s sun
you smell it before you see it: woodbine peeking from behind the stonewall
grim clouds on the coast: wishing you a gentle journey
it’s not weird to believe: the dew of dark belongs to the stars
back of the bus autumn takes the slow ride into winter
