dedicated to Blue Sky Dreaming and her accepting autumn series
WHIRL
First, a Hansa yellow morning sky
then, on the drive home, a rainbow.
The too sweet taste of Pistachio meringue.
A whiff of fear.
Hair falling to the floor, snip, snip.
Rustling leaves drifting: a gypsy whirl.
This birthday gives pause. This one.
Both feet in autumn now.
What was thought known is now unknown.
I am solitary, banished, exiled.
Bare and thin, my branches face the chill.
Your winter fire will warm me.
Read more writing on this week's theme at Magpie Tales.
