Tattered remnants of desiccated leaves
reluctant to lose their grip on old familiar trees,
afraid to cast their lot upon the vagrant winds of fall
and gracefully to return to the Mother, source of all.
Former art student, Crispina Kemp earned her crust in events and theatre management until illness stopped play. She’s now a volunteer (unpaid) poet, photographer, writer of micro-fiction and mega-length mythic fantasies set in prehistory. Visit her blog at: https://crimsonprose.wordpress.com/
Originally posted on the site: 12/07/2019