Autumn Apple
Tinge of frost
kisses the grass,
apples catch the dew
on burning cheek.
Hot mouth shivers,
anticipation - sharp
teeth snag the skin
taste the bitter essence.
Gerry Stewart
Most common moods
Poems
This Could Be the Night
Each time the moon is ripe
I scoop blue water from the lake
store it in preserve jars
its magic pressed to my ear.
On nights like this I
spill some in your whiskey
smile at your eyes, bright
moist lips, and think,
This could be the night.
Later at dawn we watch the moon
curl down the sky, the lake
pull back from the shore.
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