Submission #9 Miranda White

I relish the autumnal demise.

Fruiting labourers shed their sweating brows;

their limbs no longer aching beneath the weight of productivity.

Ripe, suckling offspring have had their fill;

Now, holed away for brighter times.

Final leaves curl, cracking away as the world takes its ease.

Breathing slows, satisfied.

A cold, cosy blanket draws over,

Waiting, waiting… resting,

until the earth cracks and life revives.

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