Cleopatra rolled up in a rugsmuggled in to see Caesarworming her way into infamyEvery day the light is changingSlyly summer transformslittle by little into autumnsuch small moveswe hardly even notice the fall I realize it’s not quite the right time of year for this poem, but my copy-paste-repeat diligence from my Medium archive knows noContinue reading “September”
n this fading comes regeneration
(even the most robust things must sleep)
so the trees light up with celebration
while within the soil their roots stretch out deep. . . .