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Autumn

Ah, autumn is an inward thought,
huddling
behind a downhearted's wrinkled brow,
his reflection unnerving
in the café window
on top of the damp and withdrawn scenery
of the town square,
as he sits, empty, at a table,
coffee left untouched

Meanwhile,
deep in the coniferous wilderness
of the north,
a raven crouches on a pine bough,
close to the trunk
quavering, talking to himself,
wings folded

The August moon rises imperceptibly,
its round face bright and mute,
as everything listens;
the entire world a speechless haiku

In the town a man slips into the night,
his raincoat pulled tight,
the lights from the café throwing his shadow
before him
across the cobblestones
as he merges with the dark




Fri vers (Fri form) av Ingvar Loco Nordin VIP
Läst 10 gånger
Publicerad 2022-07-31 12:29



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