Bared, its branches dance October skeletal
to chthonic music, crush of leaves beneath,
an oak, its limbs a somber filigree
and rooks above in plumage clerical.
With wreath in hand I bow for fall, believe
I hear the voice of summer’s symmetry.
Afterwards, you’ve lit a fire, glass of wine
with ruby sheen its blood is memories
of warmth inside, a glow affects my mind
from brush of lips, your summer sensory.
This is my second entry for Kerry’s prompt of ten line poetry at toads. I experimented to write this as a sonnetina…