Whirl

dedicated to Blue Sky Dreaming and her series of accepting autumn paintings

Whirl

First, a Hansa yellow morning sky
then, on the drive home, a rainbow.

The too sweet taste of Pistachio meringue.
A whiff of fear.

Hair falling to the floor, snip, snip.
Rustling leaves drifting: a gypsy whirl.

This birthday gives pause. This one.
Both feet in autumn now.

What was thought known is now unknown.
I am solitary, banished, exiled.
Bare and thin, my branches face the chill.

Your winter fire will warm me.

for more Magpie Tales poems and stories using the above photo as a prompt see Magpie Tales.