1945Submitted by The Pen on Thu, 02/28/2013 - 15:11
It splashes up from the earth - a behemoth of braided oceans,
stone bodies curling in their reaches:
at certain times as was early autumn they fell unto red ripples,
ruddy by incinerate glow,
down deep on the winds their refined shades drew
to the furling tips of umber-stippled leaves,
scattered over splayed veins of uprooted throughways,
to piles unfurling with tiny apparitions of children...
their slight voices waning
in the falling ash of mothers and fathers...