Golden

Renouncing tradition I took to the woods,

my trusty companions weft white-wizard

breath in their wake. Umbells of seedheads

donned snow-hats, heads nodding. The sunshards

turned treetrunks bronze-molten and roseate, their

glory-crowns straggling and trailing down low.

I followed the arrows that broke through the

snowcrust, they lead me to furrows all blow

rippled, whittled like wet weathered sand, lone

trudged over leaf dropped montelimar nougat,

an old slingshot treewreck held low-slung sun

missile, poised, firebrand aimed wide to the far

away heavenbound candyfloss wisps,

turned everything golden, the true alchemist.

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