SLCC's Premiere Art & Literary Magazine

fever hymn

linn luker

as blooms recede, the air no longer chokes

us with inferno fingers. leaves decay,

heat dissipates, summer's warm embrace

will soon be nothing but a memory.

despondent winter creeps on careful feet

it must be weeping season, I can tell.

the pine trees lose their skin, revealing bones

that shine a sickly pale against the moon.

the snow glints unapologetically underneath.