Always punctual, the unfriendly drop.

The Carolina wren wishes to confirm a great love.

The Carolina wren demands nothing less than the ample return.

And who, September, are you, but the stiff back of a postprandial
    nap.

Braced, like a crew on icy waves.

Tomorrow, I shall write a letter to the editor calling on poems to
    relinquish their metaphors.

I owe it to the sun falling down, and the forest.

Soon, silver leaves will land on the ledger of thieves.

William G. Gillespie lives and writes in Brooklyn, NY. His poems have appeared in Rust + Moth, Eunoia Review, boats against the current, and other journals. He holds a BA from Amherst College.

View David Joel Kitcher’s selected works.