we give them names to dramatize the gale force
October winds that massage trees with such intent
skinning sapped leaves swiftly from skeleton
bark pumiced boughs
scrubbed bare they rise light-headedly
an old chest of drawers retorts
one sudden rasping creak of wooden memories
Blowing 44 words for Grace’s Quadrille: Creak…and tying in with the Tuesday Platform
PoetryPix 