Anticipating Winter

November’s fires heat my face to flushing-

the glow of autumn awakens

the cinders in my heart and

whispers a lullaby to the

ants beneath my skin.

 

my lungs burn with the breath
I’ve been holding since the
end of February-
it turns to smoke
in the grasp of the waning year.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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