Fall

And with that last flamingo move
Of wildly burning tree locks
The gale ebbed away

Making space
For the noctilucent tranquility of the air
Undeniably present
Hugging the trees
In its arctic embrace

And them
Oh wooden-wooden heads
Dropped their very last veil
In an instant
Baring their very hearts

Completely

V bezbrannom tichu

In the blind, blind trust
In the water
To react

Its wizardry

Of winter interlink

Dwelling in my heart
Keeping me warm
When the words of nuts
Kept sending shivers down my back

“Harris would be a better choice, you see, it’s been four years of prosperity for US…”