Monday, October 5, 2015

Where Summer Fell





From time’s loom tumbles russet thread
Red, bronze, amber and persimmon
Before it weaves brown, brittle leaves
To what no hand retrieves; Bygone

We grapple with its arabesque
Where what is woven disappears
Half-Poems crushed and gently brushed
To wash the world in leaf-shaped tears

I want for naught but to embrace
This petal-portioned push and pull
Lest, like summer its gossamer
Unravels in spice-pumpkin tulle

From time’s loom tumbles tick and tock
In russet, gold and cinnamon
Where no one can persuade its clock
To still what it is bent upon

...and every tree, a leafed belfry
And every leaf a tolling bell
Awaits its turn to fill the urn
Of no return where summer fell

© Janet Martin

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