Beams + October

Reaching branches a summer grown
Rub the paint of porch beams shows
A raw wood grain and pull the bow
to moan a wood on wood unknown

The season end by measured flames
A forest burning more the same
Smoke rests beneath the porches eaves
Linger whisper to the porches beams

Remember that from which you came
The boldness in the face of fate
Before you fell to measured planks
Remember that from which you came

○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Before the end of October

what a perfect measurement for an entire year
rampant growth before the cold