Like discarded pages
From the book of autumn, the leaves
Come trembling down in red and umber,
Each poem or story, an unread letter.
Think of the fires in ancient Nairobi,
The voluminous smoke of parchment burning.
Open your arms to the dying colours, to the fragile beauties of December.
Deep in the heart of buried acorns, nothing is lost.

The Bluestar Insider

By JOE MWANGI