Tumble wind green leaf dance
crawling asphalt and worried faces
Echoes of too soon spiraling across
a Walgreen’s parking lot Too bright
last of summer sun glinting off a line of windshields
Needle prick a bark less Armageddon
Tempest tapping on the windowpane
Come you Autumn whistle through the tree bones
of limbs raked of umber foliage in this season
of dead things falling Rattle your oracle bones
shake those pieces of ox scapula and turtle plastron
of our human affliction Listen to the creak and sway
As a Zephyr blows through branches armature grasp
for dark skies graying hope Down down we go Below
the antler rut deer markings Our sunless flayed bark
buried dirt deep beneath the winds moan
to roots tangled in skulls of afterthought
Whispers rattling terra firma’s ribcage
knees thunder cracked floor mopped tears
Our hand wringing finger splayed remorse
skeletons bemoaning the winds rancid truth
Lungs long bleached of breath singing
come brittle soothsayer Listen closely
as the wind speaks and the land talks back
Click here to read Sage Ravenwood on the origin of the poem.
Image: photo by Alex Wing on Unsplash, licensed under CC 2.0.
- Autumn’s Bones - September 2, 2022