September

by Ian Stuart
(York, United Kingdom)

September


The first
cold autumn day.
A sharp wind tugs the leaves,
flings birds,like tattered rags, against
the sky.


Early mist.
The city wakes.
By the silent river
geese swerve and lift, slicing the air
like ghosts.

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Apr 16, 2012
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Stunning
by: True Critic

I feel transformed by your words. This poem is written just perfectly so that the reader can imagine being in the scene, while staying brief. Bravo.

Feb 22, 2012
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Thanks
by: Ian Stuart

Thank you. Glad you liked it.

Feb 21, 2012
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this is the best poem ever!!!!
by: Anonymous

I love this poem I think it is amazing!!! GREAT JOB!!!!!!!

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