Autumn wood
murmurs in the fire-place,
and the wind-song sobs.
A silver vase
lifts empty arms
from the mantel.
The unflowered room
dreams of hyacinth
and daffodil.
Bring the woody nightshade
from the forest,
and spatter its red clusters
with silver leaf.
The forest is heavy
with life and death.
Fill this hollow cup
with bitter-sweet and silver,
and let it live again.
Evelyn Coffey
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