Fly Amanita’s are tempting the Cedars,
their red-bonnets beckon like poisoned Sonnets.
Chestnuts crackle underfoot
a smoking pyre refuses to flame,
stoked and stacked the leaves stay put
their golden death embalmed by rain.
My footsteps follow on Autumns path
though somehow it is I in shadow,
there is poison and there is life renewed
with every step inspired, imbued.
© Wolfgar 2019