night fills up like
a rusted tub to brim
with sleeping shadows,
drowning an eggshell moon
that lays flat as a
porcelain drain stopper
morning blooms a ginger
star of love burnt fire
and upon the etherized
dawn I feel morning birthed
beneath my feet
my soul stethescopes the
whispering splendor of falling leaves,
chestnut and hazel,
filling my new born eyes
with autumn aurora
