a tale of tails, tenacity, and tedium, as told by me, usually barefoot and bellowing
Showing posts with label Flash Fiction 55. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flash Fiction 55. Show all posts

Sunday, October 5, 2014

55 for Toads...

Autumn paints cool October mornings
Brushing the leaves
Mixing the palette of primary colors
Smearing them with delight
Creating colors we only see in fall
Autumn knows we mourn
The colors of summer
Applying her brush heavily
She paints
For us
When Winter arrives
With gray white cold
We’ll need those colors
In our heart
For Toads
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