>Halloween Word Search: A Poem

> Autumn’s Sonnet Kiss me under the golden linden trees.High, heavy, they reached to the ochre sky,Their ribbed arches a cathedral of leaves.Remember those consummate lips pass by. Now the leaves have fallen, brown, crackled, dry; The hyperborean night, no release. Wings of this darkling thrush do not south fly – Do the lindens bear it with… Continue reading >Halloween Word Search: A Poem