Autumn undresses the trees. Leaves gone mouldy. And rotting. Everything. Damp. And smells of dog. Autumn has clouds in her eyes. Autumn has rain in her head. She removes her floral halo, and lets time have its way with her.
Singing woodwind trees
Wiley words from a spider
Prick survival skills
Written for dVerse Poet, Haibun Monday “Autumn’s Voice” and Poetic Asides Day 22 “an Anti-love Poem“. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. The image are mine ©Misky, and created using AI-Midjourney technology currently in public-beta.
It's Still Life 
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