A Graveyard of Leaves
Russet, saffron and scarlet,
Draped ’round the protruding roots,
A rustling carpet circling the trunk,
Crisp skeletons of the summer’s leaves—
Like some gory battlefield,
Naked corpses bloodstained,
Exposed bones crushed ’neath
The shod feet of intruders,
White maggots creeping out the wounds
To creep up the visitors’ ankles—
Crunching under children’s shoes.
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