autumn fog: everyone gets a personal cloud
Tag: fiction
it can be kind of special when you don’t seem to belong
when the creek becomes shallow enough to whisper and not rush
beyond fogged windows the thin smile of autumn’s crescent smiles upon the lonely traveller
subway platform: a fine line of morbid masks to choose from
gentle little rebels: dew hang from the clothesline awaiting the sun’s execution
dispel negative charge: touch brass or keep copper to nurture green fingers
autumn winds and drizzle: the concrete room echoes with otherworldly reverberation
when bees crowd the garden: conversations and secrets are carried elsewhere
savage in the mirror: an untrimmed beard keeps the wildness in check
