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I move amidst patches of rust and fire.

I move amidst patches of rust and fire, blood and ire, inclement desire. The autumn is the explosion of life, the last great breath of the year, the climax before the descent. The final seeds cast, fruit drops to earth, cloth to bedside floor. In brilliance and passion, the world around me seduces my senses with its magnificence and I relent. I give, forfeit resistance, and drown in its splendor.

awakening

Another old piece, as it was written. This is titled Awakening and is companion to Quickening.

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Of Frost And Ardor

   With frost hanging in the air and inclement winter weather moving into the valley, I post yet another old piece, mildly revised and cleaned up, for the reading pleasure of any who will it. This is titled Of Frost And Ardor and sums a feeling still relevant in this period.

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