Faddish harvest of Fall

when the season ~ fall comes ~
feel many hands over me
white hands
all kinds of fingers
searching for What?
has nothing more there

But ,
there, they are

I can stand up myself
and starry is my vision
i forgot the rusted chains

i see the dark hands
through of

white fluffy blossoms
reaping what they sowed

all that gray
troubled with that blue
dissolve itself in tears
Like the wane moon

as is above
is not as is below?

I feel many hands over me

 faddish harvest of Fall 


6 thoughts on “Faddish harvest of Fall

  1. I remember passing through the heads of miles and miles of wheat fields while growing up, one of the reason I still like tall grasslands, the joys of becoming lost, but not lost…


  2. Wheat fields, cotton, see these fields full of life is like enjoying the beauty of life. But here comes the fall and … It bothers me harvest, metaphorically speaking. Thanks Sean, as always a new vision for me.
    Here i talk about my harvest, my fall season. Kisses Poet


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