By the Tuckaseegee River

..

The
mountains
look on fire
this morning: mist drifts up
high in rough ranges of smokiness:
my old friend, gone away,
would have loved
this grand

view.

.

.
Morning
glories twirl
up around the corn stalks:
pink and purple flared horns: the yellow
corn leaves curl down edges
turning brown:
damp ground.

.