Tuesday, September 29, 2015

September-Swindler





You toss Her tress with wind-song
You strum Her air-borne spheres
You tug Her hug of lowered sky
And break it into tears

You dazzle noon with kisses
You frazzle frond and flow’r
And by the hill you fill the rill
With remnants of Her hour

You thrum in thought and yonder
Upon the blue-skimmed slope
You thrill eye-cups with wonder
They spill in renewed Hope

You frame the day with longings
Too sacred to be tamed
Reminding us that Some Things
Remain ever unnamed

…while trees turn leaves to lamplight
Shedding joy’s haloed grief
You wean Her from Time's orbit
Into each drifting leaf

© Janet Martin

...the speckles in the photo below are leaves from the walnut trees.

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