(or, Found Poem, with Edits)

The bone-pot simmers, the lemon blossom fades.
The last leaf falls.

Regardez, beside the line of roses
braving the November air,
just beyond the sage-green shutters to where
a would-be novelist blackens white pages in her chill room.

See you all when Winter’s come.

*Poet Olga Broumas originated the idea of poetry as “lumens,” the unit of light that comes from a candle or lightbulb. Little poems = little rays of light.

Advice for Aspiring Writers: See more light. Read more poets.

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