First, early frost
strikes with dawn-sulphur
and melts by nine.
The yeast-light of warmth then
lifts the ropes of almost-still prayer flags
August had bleached, September has
curled, the Autumn wind frays.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
Today is all morning, embers flaming.
Jacqui Thewless
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/november-23rd/
