tethering

october rain
becomes the hyphen---
between lines
we tether sumac ribbons

ivy covered brick, willow leaves turning
a silvery sage--the aspens blazing
climbing once distant hills of caramel
now, so close we can touch its fringes

random rain drops
on pitched roofs, rollicking
morning barely apparent--

steeped in sounds of birch bark peeling,
scents of apples simmering,
and freshly found pine cones
leaving sticky resin

north wind gently pushing
lace curtains acquiescing
so early, no sounds of cars
or the clop of feet stomping music

still late enough to see
an awakening charcoal sky
from the vantage point
of angels on high

~kate lamberg (c) '14