autumn leaves are still curled
in breasts of maple trees,
dewy wet from yesterday’s downpour
black crows circle outside patio,
eyes on wayward crumbs from grill,
hovering our conversation:
we sit like windmills, unmoving,
as the sun bristles our skin,
fragile glass on
we swallow down our throats:
picture credit: Posted for D'verse Poets Pub: Symbolism
and Flash Fiction Friday - Tell a story in 55 words - For the G-man.
We received the sad news this morning that our colleague's daughter died after being in coma due to a car accident. She was a young woman,full of promise. How fragile life is ~
Wishing you happy day and blessed weekend.