It is the warm rush

on the face bearing

the velocity of

fast

falling

leaves.

It is the unexpected mosquito sleeping in our ear

It is a source it is a mouth

It is a source it is a mouth it is a river

A river, flowing blue and black

A river green and orange it is the brown

Crust of bread crumbled upon the floor.          It lies

A terra cotta sculpture fal

                                                                      len from the shelf

as leaves

floating fallen

laying under clouds

beside yellow grasses

curled in a hint of frost

it is an icy web

a fervid salmon leaping

from tangled nets of darkness.

It is the start of

It is the finish of

It is the finished start

of