Back in Wisconsin, September

by Carol Berrett

First frost glazes tall thistles
blooming next to the road.

I too, almost alive,
walking in a chilly mist moving in from over
Lake Koskonong.

Something else, gazing into my eyes
and the bristly eyes of the thistle flowers.

In the road just ahead, slivers of a rising sun
light fires
in the iced feathers of a dead starling.

Closer I see
she is heading home,
opening her tiny eyes.