some rather fanciful notes inspired by July

already the spiders are spinning
touching the edges of autumn,
sleeves of lace and filigree

over the fields
autumn turns,
rippling waves of shadow,

seed heads bend to the earth
the weight of their work
gathered at their throats

as decades ago I ran
over the meadows, 
childless, a child,

down to the water's edge
turning stones over for larvae
holding fast in the stream


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