Is

 

is this the autumn of all autumns

from the drumming grouse on

the hollowing log the ground shakes

spaces become space

the sun complacent is swallowed whole

in golden leaf and canopy

it seems the day is later than ever

brightly pleasant lies arrive without warning

the harmless kind like sweet

butter melting on warm bread

you reach for my hand

free me from my vacancies

in this case

of mistaken

serenity

 

JP Pestana Is 5.21.2022