the poetry knook, the poetry of stephen m. james

Campus morn

Dried blood brick and amber leaves petrify in memory,
White oaks mirror a horizon-hung sun blinding
Aldersgate glistens in algae-ic glow
and the cupola scrutinizes the grounds
festooned in frosty, sapphire shadows
while violet, autumn ghosts polish
campus concrete to a pasty panache.


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