scattered snow sticking,
a shape forming to my eye,
swan wings on the lawn.

the wind ravaged her
hair out on the moor as she
clutched her ripped green dress

a walk in the dark
reveals the flowers that bloom
underneath the moon

from the nothing place
spontaneous combustion
but was it random?

clean light and sharp air
hills cloaked in brown, gold and rust
autumn in england

the fair queen held her bouquet of white and
pink mums so closely to her heart, the loose
petals clung to her mother's blue dress like
sequins. nature's perfect touch as she saw
mom smile at the back of the school gym. then
she was gone. the crowd watched as tears trickled
over the fair queen's cheeks as she began
to proudly wave. but it wasn't for them.

the familiar creep
of night skeletons in dreams
toward infinity