Autumn's Approach

She lies in wait of things to come
Beneath a cool, blue moon
The trembling of imminent dawn
Breathes on the dark-rimmed dune
Where currents of an unseen tide
Have claimed fair summer’s boast
As burnished fingers brush aside
Her eager, verdant ghost

The lavish plume of brush and bloom
Don webs of impearled silk
The broken bud of June's perfume
Has bled its honeyed milk
And in the pausing atmosphere
A murm’ring purple chill
Creeps silently into her tear
Spawned by time’s perfect will

The pastureland of summer’s bliss
Is naught but trodden dirt
Spring's cheek that drew her lover’s kiss
Is streaked with beauty’s hurt
The palms that opened to release
Impatient, rushing dreams
Have seen the fruit of its increase
Like leaves upon a stream

She lies in wait of deeper hope
In fall’s extravagance
A song of gilded calliope
And echoes of a dance
That passed too quickly and too soon
In hours sweet and wild
Seeds float on summer's fading tune
She turns to see her child

Janet Martin~

Sometimes I find the title the most challenging part of a poem.
First I had- In Waiting
Then I thought maybe Middle-aged Mother (or woman) would open the reader’s mind immediately to the two tones in the poem,
But then I wanted the reader to see it for themselves so I chose Autumn’s Approach.
This morning it is cold and I felt ‘The Approach’ on more than one level;)