October Sunday Morn Poem by Martin Moore
October Sunday Morn
Golden waves of littered leaf
drift by roadside verge
crow-clouds inky black
turgid October canopy
fingered fringe of dark motif
eager to emerge
admonishing Autumn's claque
ill-fated foliar panoply
palpitating, bowing out
eternal enigma
coppered coloured tapestry
fills the great hall
seasons secrets uttered now
sweet senescent stigma
the brutal, bare banality
of winters first catcall
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7/19/2025 6:30:31 AM # 1.0.0
