by Ron Wallace

November rides in
from the east
on a blood bay mare
____iron spur rowels rattling,
the black brim of his Stetson,
pulled low
above hard, hazel, autumn eyes.

Behind him,
the sky is wearing bones
____a line of leafless sycamores
etched against the greying day
in a time of outlaws.

Well aware
____ that Winter is on his heels,
he watches as a rising crescent moon
lifts the black
above not yet winter hills,
cocks the hammer back
____ and buries the world
________under collapsing stars.

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