the sound is like birds nestling in the bushes
over these hushed common grounds
where Autumn sparsely lingers—
the breezes grab the twigs
and thick looming boughs while forest berries
let their juices graze the prickly leaves.
this is a garden laced with temptation,
waiting for out simple depletion
we can feed the earth our soiled moistures.
the buds are spontaneous awakenings in moonlight
when tall redwood trunks look like Roman columns
that hold the night sky above us—
this is why my hands seem brittle as i reach up
to capture one of God's tiny flames
for you as we rest our heads in this August night.