The Lark
Published in

The Lark

Autumn

A poem

The clouds swallow up the moon
and spit it back out,
and the breath of the wild
turns cold on my skin.

The bones of the forest
crunch under my feet,
each step a reminder
of memento mori.

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The Lark shares fictional short stories and poetry

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Daniel Fincher

Freelance Writer, Storyteller, and Poet — Founder of Artistic Autism and Five-Minute Fiction