In Autumn by Krista Canterbury Adams
In autumn , We make the pilgrimage — Through the gates of the graying forest , Dark clouds hanging at each end Of the wood path . We bring Sweet flames , A skull , antlered , bone-white , Which we found last winter Unexpectedly — a miraculous remnant , Arcing branches of bone Dancing with shadow . These we place At your roots , gifts , An offering , Abundant with flame , branch , bone .
72