London’s Burning

Leaves let loose on fall’s faint breath
Their lifeblood sapped, left dead and heavy
Detritus, these discarded solar cells are again devoured
It is nature turning

Below skeletal frames the earth is ablaze
Alight in brittle, brilliant hues of rouge and mandarin
Fire that burns without warmth
It is autumn’s blazing shawl

The trees’ tattooed greaves are covered
Their bark, scarred with summer’s love bites, now hidden beneath the licking flame

As the carpet roars, scarves are dug from the depths of wardrobes
Snaking around tender throats
While woolen gauntlets are drawn over bare knuckles
It is a new cycle heralded

And all the while, down a phone line, flowers blossom


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