these beaded chandeliers

of a very hard

rain pop out the

twinkle of a color

from branches.

stolen from the riches

of a Queen, handed

back with both hands.

as threads stream

across a fetching

web...unburdened

by dreams as flies

nose in.

leaves are softening

their handprints from

a forgotten fall.

juice climbs a tree

with no sound on it.

no skeleton is craven

while held up to a

season.