I think this is a troiku.
A breath of breeze
through the poplar crowns
scatters gold coins.
A breath of breeze
mild as apple and honey
a plume of wood smoke.
Through the poplar crowns
a flock of jays rattle
flurry of leaf-fall.
Scatters gold coins
the wind, from autumn’s purse
to buy robins’ songs.
I think this is a troiku. A breath of breezethrough the poplar crownsscatters gold coins. A breath of breezemild as apple and honeya plume of wood smoke. Through the poplar crownsa flock of jays rattleflurry of leaf-fall. Scatters gold coinsthe wind, from autumn’s purseto buy robins’ songs.Read MoreJane Dougherty Writes
