º£½Ç´óÉñ

Embers

a poem

Embers

Surrounded now by

short deft strokes

of cadmium and ochre –

a golden cloak unfit for

winter winds; even

the graying green of the field

is layered in lively yellows:

Above and below glows

without benefit of sunshine. The

final fall colors burn from within,

embers of the late summer.