equinox

The october sky beckons

robin, dove and wren

scatter about

to gather

pine tag, dusty hairs, warm cotton leaves,

edging about scoping the landscape

for berry, seed and mite.

As the early blink

of the sun comes up eagerly sending

mice and chipmunks into a pure frenzied rage

to gather and bind all these things

twisting and turning

— as small moles run

scattered under pine tag looking, digging.

Tiny wren find worms

fatten up their young till

the sound of duck

at twilight,

their shrill calls into the amber sky.

Shadows fall sharp as the glint of the moon

has been blown into the sky

full now and glowering over,

creatures all.

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