I LOVE soaking in leaf-shaped 'suds'!
They smell better than anything you can pour from a bottle
and their crackle is a mixture of holding on and letting go...
Oh, let it snow, but first let nature spill its farewell madrigal
We love Her so; some call her Autumn, others simply call her Fall
She sets the summer heart aflame with love and longing, torn between
Earth's frame-less works of art; mosaics gold and scarlet, orange, green
Oh, let it snow, but not before the fingers of the wind have teased
The ballads from the branch that bore a summer rife with melodies
The roar of gales can set to sail a splurge of lonesome, leaf-shaped notes
Where chords of something like a dirge weaves lullabies lodged in our throats
Oh, let it snow but do not crush the farmer's harvest-hopes too soon
Ah, Time Enough for blasts to blow across some wintry afternoon
And let the poet drink the ink of Silence strumming stubble-sweeps
Where soon the fluff of stars will snuff the countryside where summer sleeps
... and wait until the thrill of smoky grays and brooding blues begets
The time it takes to acclimate to twilight's leafless silhouettes
Where five o'clock sidewalks are strung with yellow streetlight-jewelry
Oh, let it snow but not before
Fall spills its finest,
fullest,
final,
fluttering
frond
of
poetry
Janet Martin
