365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Ninety

the squirrels scramble.
for one last nut to crack.
autumn not yet in full bloom.
the trees remain three-quarters green.

the sheen of a barely broken sky.
oversees small change, all lie in wait.
for cold and the white of lazy days.
when one dreams of fires and good books.

wolf takes over, live for a day and then.
repeat the function and make things new.
serious reprocussions of the past engulf.
but no one dwells on truth.

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About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

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