Last-Day-Of-October Postcard

Morning

Afternoon

 Dusk...

Nature’s mantle is frayed; its tatters splayed beneath our feet

Autumn’s auburn-tinged guerdon drains the garden of its lark

Where stomping grounds of summer sleep, like a deserted street

And earth is like a courtyard or market-place after dark

When all the shops are closed but still the scent of Living wafts

Pungent, the dust soft-settled and the noise of barter stilled

Its fruit thereof is garnered into root-cellars and lofts

As Autumn cloaks the air with ambience of quest fulfilled

While we, the workers linger, roving skylines with our eyes

A-wonder at the deftness of time’s Ferris-wheel-like flight

It thickens limbs with bud then leaf, then leaf-by-leaf demise

Surprising us anew by its voracious appetite

And like a dirge, the winds converge and moan outside the door

The brittle aftermath of summer scuttles ‘cross the yard

Where nature’s harp is laid; futile to plead for an encore

Earth is a masterpiece; last-day-of-October postcard

© Janet Martin