Morning Read (Just the Leaves)

Morning Read,

Rain wasn’t coming down cats and dogs, but it was discouraging none the less.

Biking up Como to St. Paul from Marcy Holmes had to be done,

This commute remained a process before a process.


Water spray wet and cold,  pedaling made difficult two-fold by the amount of cigarettes smoked.


Fallen leaves foretold a story foretell as fall had happened, autumn was here.

Four seasons, all was in order well.


This time, the travel had served a purpose, dreary Sunday morning.




Just the Leaves, 


They float on air from a branch,

To river below,

Through states in a watery escape,

Their colors all aglow.


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