The summer sun has fled to warmer climes <br />before the dauntless lance of winter. <br /> <br />Warmth and Life have folded up their clothes <br />and taken down the tipi called 'they live there'. <br /> <br />They've left behind the dross of living things - <br />the smell of open fires and the garbage pit. <br /> <br />I will hide my heart below the dying embers <br />that warm the ground beneath the fire ring. <br /> <br />I will search among the ashes of the camp <br />to find kinnikinic to give to you, my death.<br /><br />Steven Silent Wolf<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-moon-of-falling-leaves/
