In the dead and blowing leaves
The rain and wind aplenty
Autumn brings the long coat sleeves
And leaves the branches empty

The days are shorter. Dull and grey
The clouds all gather
Bringing rain
The ties to summer severed

Sheep do not Scratch
The Tup,
Painful Birth,
Brief Spring of Frolic
In Lush Grass,
Nor butchers Knife.

Precious Poets,
We Bleat and Baah
Our Small Woes,
Big Loves,
Insights and Dust.

Such small Season
And Gone Gone Gone

a leaky faucet
a rolling drip
of stagnant water

Every day’s
a full closet
of drunk dancing skeletons
living on the premises

Every day’s
a parade of jokes
of gangrene limbs
and thick black smoke

Every day's
a masquerade
of storm clouds
covered in marmalade

Every day's
a rollerblade
on a highway to hell
an arcade of
an old witch's spell

Every day’s
Groundhog Day
an endless loop
of the same

pleasure
is my measure

stepping foot by foot
loose change falling

from my pockets
like manna

that dropped from the sky
so so long ago

whit howland © 2021

The damage is done
my love

and I understand that your forgiveness
won't be forthcoming

and all I can say to explain
is this

what I did I did under
duress

and it may be hard to comprehend
that I only meant to protect you

it is a concept I fear will be forever
lost at sea


whit howland © 2021

Sun's rays
pierce

the bronchial
latticework

of the bare trees
in late Fall

leaving me with
windless and limp sails

whit howland © 2021