Patterns of MigrationA Poem by Zoe RichardsonAutumn calls us home where we belongPatterns of Migration Notes and blessings Written on the backs of falling
leaves Whispers pressed between The pages of a leftover schoolbook A cup of tears passed Between friends I have been frozen by That first frost Lived inside the coldness Of an autumn rain A traveler kept prisoner For the crime of duty Learns to dread the mercies Of October in a foreign land Apples are nothing compared To summer peaches What is an early snow when Stacked against a landscape That never sleeps You can have your bonfires And your orchards Dress yourself in scarlet maples And cobalt skies I will stand my watch in the
tangles Of golden grass and deep green
spires Exhaust yourself in gathering In working and chasing the ghost Of long-dead industry I will tuck my words beneath my
wings Set my course the battered oaks And fly away home -Zoe Richardson (2022) © 2022 Zoe RichardsonAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorZoe RichardsonCordova, ALAboutAlabama native. Poet and storyteller and all around word nerd. I practice random acts of insanity because the world needs some shaking up. more..Writing
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