e u s t a c i e s

A cold rain
comes,
clears
grasses,
flowers,
leaves
the
mulberry bare,
wherein a golden
nest
of fur, elm
rests,
while under,
against dead
brush a dead thrush
lays flush with drying tansy,
held by living lavender
to
this
last
green
night
before
white
tomorrow's
cold -
an old story,
this,
within
which
winter wins,
every time.