Article voiceover
Until dead leaves leap from the dust onto the trees from which they spun, I’ll gnaw on springtime like a crust. Until dead leaves leap from the dust, escape the arms of winter’s lust, I’ll watch for rot to come undone. I’ll see dead leaves leap from the dust onto the trees from which they spun.
The poetry here is always free to read, but I do offer paid subscription options for anyone who would like to support my work.
If you wish to show your support but a paid subscription is out of reach, you can simply buy me a coffee and help me stay awake so I can write more.
Whether or not you choose either of these options, I’m grateful that you’ve chosen to spend time here. Your presence is support enough!
This poem was generated by the author’s human mind. No AI chatbot was used.
Resurrection
Very nice triolet, Mark! Your lines were well-chosen, and thanks so much for providing some audio. :)