At Rest in Dead Grass

Chilled deep in the bones
steamy breath disappears
crispy ripe red apples drop
firewood split and stacked,
dying in the cold fields
sleep with dead grass.
Colored leaves free falling
spinning down to ground
unpacking winter clothes
full dresser and closets.
I’m dying in these fields
asleep in the dead grass.
Autumn’s calm song echo’s
within a freshness of spirit
views of a harvest solstice
life’s circle comes around,
Wafting in the dying fields,
forever at rest in dead grass.

Ken Allan Dronsfield


Ken Allan Dronsfield is a poet originally from New Hampshire. He was nominated for The Best of the Net and 2 Pushcart Awards in Poetry for 2016. His poetry has been published world-wide throughout North America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. Ken loves walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cat Willa. Ken’s new book, “The Cellaring”, a collection of 80 haunted, paranormal, weird and wonderful poems, is available through He is the Co-Editor and Cover Artist for two poetry anthologies, “Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze” and “Dandelion in a Vase of Roses” available from

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