winds of autumn (20161018)

i apologize, homer,
i don’t have a goddess
to invoke or a pathetic
fighter to prop up
only my poor verses

all useless jargon
metaphor and simile
meter and rhyme
or rhythm at least

but i will whisper my true name
to an acorn
and plant it at the crossroads
every leaf and twig
will sigh my secrets

when autumn bares the trees
my words will blow about you
stick to your shoes
and you will pluck out
of your hair while gazing
in your mirror