October 13*

after the wind

swirling mosaic of leaves
        crimson spotted yellow
                fat salmon and lambs, bled and gutted for winter stew
        curled essential bronze browns
                so true it roots restless flight right back into the earth
        and painful lustful reds
                drawing blood to the throat, hearts to the sky
           all under the naked blue of the very very precious last days

tossed and tossed into the air by the sooth-saying winds
until they finally fall in exact accordance
with the way it will be

*Copyright 2010 by Luther Allen. This poem appears in The View from Lummi Island.

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