Niche

There is for each piece of the world

a thing that is perfect in it.

November was empty until the chrysanthemums bloomed.

Across them, this morning,

a maple casts a shadow-trunk of frost.

Branches more beautiful than branches

shift across the fallen leaves.

(Part of a series of poems called "definitions")

Tags:

Follow Me!  
  • Twitter Basic Square
  • Tumblr App Icon
  • @erinbowbooks
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • RSS App Icon
Search By Tags
Recent Posts
  • Twitter App Icon
  • @erinbowbooks
  • Tumblr App Icon
  • Facebook App Icon
  • goodreads simple.jpg