Gold

Autumn has a lust for gold

leaves tremble on the lawn

like jewels

moonrise is mystical these days

I watch it watch me.

Contrails in a cloudless sky

the sun seems young

lingers lightly, promises nothing.

I return to myself

the night falls away

two crows cross

the meridian of my eye:

they own the land

survey from high.

My body’s a kernel

sailing in the blackest void

onward into a sea of stars:

they feel like velvet.