Tuesday, November 8, 2011


Trespassing the wood in
A bombardment of leaves
Like brittle confetti filtering
Light thru the clear brown
Bottle of autumn & I am
Drenched in it I am drunk
On it all the sounds &
Scents like hops & grains
To make a fine ale I can
Taste it as a man does a
Woman a sensuous elixir
Infesting my memory with
All the intoxication of a
Youth well spent on the
Desires of age


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