August’s boughs’ flourished verdure of varying boasts
Swept by the onset of Autumnal hosts,
Stripping gnarled branches of indumentum aflame
What before wore bright emerald and seasonal fame.
They catch on the gales, winds sifting and shifting,
Until all the sky is alive with their flitting
From skeletal limbs neatly preened of their leaves –
One cycle removed from their springing, green sleeves.
The arboreal pinions, aflutter like flocks,
Scatter and settle, immuring the blocks
Of concrete convenience upon which worlds sit,
Beneath burning seas of rustling leaves knit,
A peregrine pall atop the Summer deceased
Until its heralding buds are once more released.
To match the stirring shroud on the ground far below
The silver sky lets its own eulogy flow,
Frigid drops tantamount to freshly-shed tears
And the promise that Winter gradually nears.
Both funereal meeds make a wake on the ground;
Commingling tributes to the coathy Green Man abound –
Drowned leaflets of verse and their consequent streams
That spill into reality from the grey caul of dreams.
Mourning yet adoring in equal share
For the poignant transition transposing there,
Solace in the trade for a new zenith awhirl
Evokes ripples in the puddles of reflecting pearl.
And when tinged waters and flooded leaves at last abandon that place –
Magnificent ebon henna sprawling o’er the damp, ashen face.