last week’s respects to august warmth are paid and spent
and in october’s deepening chill boletes pop emboldened from beneath the backyard
meanwhile undrowning in an airborne lake of fog hawthorn pomes crimson and we
with what structures we have built might aspire to anchor the webwork of orb weavers
who wait silent in the autumn breeze
Steve Carll
This article appears in ‘In the Interest of Justice’.