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brucelevine in Poetry & Free Verse

Firewood

Smoke rises from chimneys

as the scent of firewood

permeates the air

And the briskness of the

new season

radiates well-being.

Squirrels gather the last vestiges

of fallen acorns

amid the lingering leaves of autumn.

Time meanders like tumbleweed

across the prairie

searching for a place to settle.

Artifacts of daily life

no longer needed

dissipate into shadows

As the moon grows

from crescent to full

before the new dawn.

And the aroma of firewood

transports the senses

to places unknown.

11/15/19

www.brucelevine.com

https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1