It's Still Life

A Recipe for Autumn

Autumn spins empty stillness.
It’s touched by cold moonlight.
Spins the sun at the horizon,
and fields to prickly stubble.
It’s creeping mist.
It’s brooding fog.
Its leaves lost to trees,
and twigs casting intentions.
Autumn is shadowless days,
and deep bowls of soup.

Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille #207 “spin” (quadrille is 44-words sans title). Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.