Autumn

That careful work of bloom is rent

Time takes its toll on living things

It dulls hulled heath and pulls night’s tent

Across long, pink-glossed evenings

The aftermath that time begets

Is scarlet-amber-hunger hued

Dusk-skylines highlight silhouettes

Where laughing leaves become unglued

Into the vat of that and this

The fruit of what we had is tossed

The wine of life is what it is

A vintage pressed with moments lost

Darling, before these dwindled hours

Once we were sassy as spring’s breeze

But now we empathize with flowers

That bow beneath grief-stricken trees

We are not foot-loose dreamers now

But, perhaps here and there we gaze

With careful envy at the plow

That tilled a field of yesterdays

© Janet Martin