The wind has lost its tongue
of Autumn’s golden leaves
now only a cold breath
Trees stand as cathedrals
like skeletons in silence
emptied of their choir
Now roots, neath the frost
as ginseng hums a homily
to whisper back the light
Embracing scent of the pines
stitches of the dark to dawn
as snow falls like silk









Beautifully penned, Adagio. Excellent write with amazing imagery my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian.