Weeping wisteria,
the moon fruitfully round.
Heavy hysteria,
she clouds her celestial body
inside a gauzy gown.
Darkness hardens sky to ground;
limp leaves shrivel blades to wings.
Talons root below the mound,
a reservoir of seeds;
Autumn caws when it sings.
Fanned feathers form lunar craters,
a bounty to those that receive.
Orb of the night,
procreator;
a cauldron about to conceive.
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved
This piece is inspired by the amazing art print, “Bat in Crow Country” by débora Ewing. Be sure to visit her gallery.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
I especially love the line “autumn caws when it sings”. A great piece for the artwork.
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Thank you. I will let the artist know. I met her on Twitter, as she posted this print saying, “I love my own art.” I messaged her, “I do too. Can I write about it?” The best.
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Awesome! ❤️🙂
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amazing imagery does justice to the print —
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Thank you kindly, John. Ready to concieve lots of new stories this fall. Now to find the time to pen them all.
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Lol
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Love the atmosphere and images – ‘ autumn caws when it sings’ is wonderful.
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I love the choices you make in your poetry. That first stanza I had to read twice before going on. Not because it was obscure, but because it was so beautiful and original.
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Thank you ever so much for this kind comment. I enjoy having a purpose in mind, and with this piece it was to do this artist’s gorgeous print justice. I’m not picky about how my writing sparks, so lots of flames are possible.
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I love the print, too, but your words flamed as brightly.
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