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Harvesters
Young deer
standing alert
between fence row and woods
blend with the brown, laden cornstalks—
waiting.
John Daleiden
Just Before Frost
I pick
the last apple
in cold October winds—
through wet orchard grass Venus guides
my feet.
John Daleiden
Renewal
love tryst
in gold moonlight—
all night our long embrace,
a feast cut short at dawn's morning
harvest
John Daleiden
Día de Los Muertos
Portal
between seasons:
with harvest riches stored
we light dead souls to their sweet rest . . .
candles
John Daleiden
Let Us Pretend To Be Royalty
Goblins
come to my door—
a prince and his consort
dance a ditty for their beggar's
sweet fare.
John Daleiden
After The Leaves Fall
I hear
bare tree branches
whisper at windy dusk—
prelude to the fall of winter
snow flakes.
John Daleiden
"To Silvia Let Us Garlands Bring"
. . . and all
her delights fill
the fantasies of young
roués sequestered in dark rooms
alone.
John Daleiden |