Echoes, 4 November 2020

alone for a while
gone are the distant voices
that faded, now lost
left are echoes of my words
burbling in the pebbled rill

Almost Winter, 3 November 2020

early autumn dusk
quiet settles on the woods
pop of burning logs
cold snows brush the windows
an almost-winter lullaby

ice along the path
tattered clouds race a blue moon
wind against the glass
soft voices in the distance
as I drift back into sleep

A warm-up poem for a small group’s Poem-a-Day writing activity during NaNoWriMo month.