Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2022
Slow whistle.
Atonal wind hums
through the naked
boughs of autumn.

Sunny November.
Hats and flannels
color the cityscape
under assumptions
of nearing frigidity.

But the sun still shines
and the wind goes on
humming, just like
it always has before.
Justin S Wampler
Written by
Justin S Wampler  30/M
(30/M)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems