Today's poem is by Dmitry Blizniuk

Within the Word Autumn
       

Someone walks within the word Autumn,
walks on high red heels,
one floor above,
one understanding above.
Someone stops at the window,
pulls the curtains open,
and secretly admires the suntanned horsemen of the falling leaves
that prance, rearing up on their hind legs, golden and flared.
The willow at the lamp post has lost its mind;
it mourns with bowed head,
dropping green saliva on the ants.
Then, later,
late at night,
the moon will come up,
it will be thin like an eyelid —
a teacher with a birthmark on her face
will take a crowd of stars-second-graders
on a trip above the night city.

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Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission