Arts + Scene » Poetry

Sounds of Autumn



No rain for days, feeling hopeful
Wind at my back, timing my stride
Fallen brethren all around, but eying
     the holy grail
There it lies, perfectly convex
veined and crisp
A slight lateral movement, audibly
    scraping concrete
Anticipation rising, three steps, two
    right foot conducts
And the crinkled chorus ensues

Garrett Snedaker

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