Seasons

alt lit, free verse, poetry 1 Minute

The tittering tops of trees drip scarlet.
Words to be sickened by.

And it’s all over before overkill.
We walk the hillside and are silent.

Pliant sun and steep wills.
Power is undone in an instant.

The tittering tops of trees…

-r. miller

Published by r. miller

I'm a fan of beards, cardigan sweaters, and good weed. Sometimes I write, and sometimes, people enjoy it.

Published

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Gravatar
WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s