A Minor Key
Morning sunlight glints past yellow branchesKira Braun
A glow catches the underbellies of passing geese.
Leaves flutter, the fields now in fallow ridges;
The light uncanny and bright under a greying sky.
What’s yet to come?
Alas, winter’s dull cloud looms.
The creatures huddle together now,
Seeking warmth; a long sleep under fallen blooms.
We must power on, no sun to guide us,
Past the barren trees,
And feel the world continue to move,
All the while in minor keys.