tumbledry

Annulus

Not too long ago, while Mykala was driving us to Ikea, I was watching spring out the window of the car. For the first time, while admiring the buds, I caught myself thinking about the autumn coming later this year. Caught me off-guard, and I felt old. A poem seemed appropriate. So, more bad poetry, a blessedly rare occurrence here:

Afresh, buds become leaves
Unfurling

A cycle now, I see
Annulus

Ripening green mirrors
Autumn’s fade

Brief Notes Nearby