At the Edge of Autumn

Here at the edge of autumn I like to practice being generous.
I read a book that I don’t like just to exercise my manners,
maybe expand my standards for how beauty stands still,
how it hides in a moment of a life I can barely comprehend.
I am hiding my own frozen flashes of derelict magic so that
a shock of warmth might bring them out on a tray ready-to-eat.
Grant one passage into the mouth as the leaves begin to descend.
Each one deserves a shy smile, but I will decline until winter signals.
The cold intrudes like a whip instructing my hands and toes.
At the edge of autumn I can craft my answer to all new styles.

Looking for more poetry? Check out these offerings from the MockingOwl Roost contributors and staff.

• From a Distance
• The Email
• Trader Joe’s Tonight

Tim Kahl

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