another cold autumn moon
kisses her somber mountains
wearied beneath wild hoards
of a parched summer siege
with soft—desiccated breaths
like serene hallows of absolution

living high—inside diluted airs
squeezes the verdant seasons
into brisk haunts of spicy days
snuffing all hopes of lofty growth
into a crackling bouquet of ochre
flaunting its crypt of cursed crops