Thursday, September 13, 2007


Let’s walk, beloved, weary girl,
through the massed September glory
easy in the careless whirled
couturier memento mori,
let’s smile in fall’s face.

Let’s find a snug place
in this divine deciduous fire,
learn the leaves’ abiding grace
in letting go to tumble higher,
learn to ride the appled air.

Let’s find a place and settle there
to watch our larking children go
imperiled to the world’s affairs,
and watch the maples gather snow
with ivy woven in our hair.


Minx said...

Je reponds - beautiful.

pundy said...

I hate the death throes of summer, especially this year when we've had no sun to speak of for weeks on end, but this poem reminds me that Autumn has its compensations too.

Beautiful and melancholy at the same time. Just like Autumn I guess. Thanks, John.