birches, Wisconsin: by Eric Boegel of Accretion Point on flickr
Summer's last breaths
Embrace vibrant murmurs
Autumn exhaled in its youth
We hold ours as soldier birches
Guard the sun's trampled path
'Tween equinox and dead-still sun
A scritch-scratch of black,
Forests turn back their edges
Grasping and gasping last hues
What life my winter spires of ice
Wraith's foggy mouthing against
Lips frozen yet parted for spring
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