Runcible Spoon

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To Learn

 

Your light has me spectral, trembling. The last leaf of autumn

holding out for Spring.  I will

 

wait. I will not compost. I will sing

my brittle voice- cracks.  A note in the song of you.

 

Sun I soaked for a season.  I sing

remnants of my memories. Ghosts of life, elsewhere.