Time has run through
golden fields of hay
and swam the moss-covered
ponds in the soft amber
light of dawn.

There are shards of
beauty in the
rubble of a broken life.

Those summer days
crawled
like
a

grumpy

tortoise.

Then galloped on by, like
a ******* colt.

I fed on the breast of life,
grew strong, and free.
And now,
those November birds

are

coming for me.