chimeric season

& the autumn,
& the air forced along,
the chill the flame, the leaf atremble
little bellows, and suns in boughs

& what do you feel when you lose the thread,
& what shall we do at the end
no more bridges burning,
songs turned and yet turn,
in the gloaming where's the color slows it down,
replaced and turned and back and builds,
fills the bellows floats on by;
white chairs and paper dolls pinning silent

& under the sky is wine-eyes,
& the stars blink and stare,
winding up the dream again to savor
barks-leaves-flames, scents as songs,
sinking back to slumber