Sift

Papers in my mind move me to exhaustion
Oh how they dash
Circular in their arrival
Fleeting in their definition

This palace of circled eyes is where I reside
For spells words is all I have
A lost soldier of thought
Am I on these period passages

A timeless feel to the dated
As I march toward conclusion
Reality my rifle
Breath my saber

Ordering it all with librarian tenacity
Till I swallow time
Releasing my ticker
From self imposed rapture.

Chill

The last few leaves hang in balance
Fluttering with November's wind
A few swept away at a time
Burnt orange troopers hang on
Avoiding loss
Knowing there is no solution

With the rain came this time
A prelude to winter
Remains on the carpet
Piled with force

Limbs polished grey with slumber
Line the sky
Barren in their solitude
Awaiting the earthbound flakes.