cranberry apple love
you were kicked
stamped beneath my boots
in the feat of fall
in the sun
sets of berries on the porch
of a home I don’t know
Do you love me? shh
apple wine is autumn’s love
or maybe John Keats’
mellow is my cranberry heart
waiting to be mulled in
intoxicating rum
tumbling over the sky,
the grey, the goose, the storm.
cranberry apple love
