Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
By Chance or Appointment - 26. Late August
Late August
I walked out
under an orange-rind moon
rising over wood-clad hills
shrouded in secret colors,
coats which last but a season
and cannot linger in the west wind’s embrace,
with kisses rougher and more urgent
than modest, mutable Virgo
who waits her turn to appear and sing
the ancient silver song
of advancing time.
And where my boots strayed,
they covered themselves in the tears
of summer grasses, weeping
for flowers long past,
forgotten by bees and butterflies,
their transitory and fickle lovers
now sleeping in their camouflaged cocoons
waiting to waken to a spring sun
that rejoices to rise,
lifting clear of clinging branches on the ridge,
as we stride, not stumble,
hand in hand
into a new season
clothed in bold new garments
of the lemon dawn.
- 10
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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