December 15, 2007
Dark, vibrant, bloodred.
Autumn leaves fall from the trees.
The ground seems to bleed.
Bright, golden yellow.
The ground is a color wheel.
In time, all will fade.
Mirror-bright silver.
The twenty prongs of the rake
drag the leaves away.
Raven-feather black.
The night sky contains no moon;
now, the ground is clear.
