Heard lots of poetry today. Not so much writing, though. From this morning:

It wasn’t what you’d call crisp
but the edges were sharp enough to cut
leaving slices and slivers
to mark the scene
What didn’t get blown away by the breeze
churned long enough to cause collateral damage

The letter has sat on my coffee table
for the last two or three days
waiting for me to make up my mind
whether or not to send it your way
Bravery is easy on paper
it’s another thing to deliver…

Crisp autumn leaves
crunch under foot
unsent letters yellow in the moonlight

(10 September 2017)