Moon, pale gold like early summer
Whispering, "Autumn..." in my ear
Murmuring weariness in rain-laced wind
Drooping, half asleep, worn thin
Nights of watching, exhausted by
Just the sight of sun
Brilliant, always, as youth
As fire-glinting joy
Ebullience without end
Leaving only listlessness
Worn out ennui in its wake
Cover with cloud your dazzled eye
And dream...
...While I
Weave words among the summer grass
Tall and wet and rustling
Thoughts like fingers following
Field mice as they whisk away
Slipping from my hands like hope
slipping from my mind like truth
Slipping from my heart like youth
Quick, cup the falling leaves
To catch and hold elusive wisps
Spilling over the ragged edge
Leaking through the smallest crack
Quick, before it slips away
A pen, a page...
...Anything at hand
A parched and brittle reed
Snap the point to sharpness
Prick the vein
Write in blood upon the sky
Hopes that were and are no more
Unwritten, they'll have never been
Just dry corn jostled, trampled
Lost amid the harvest
Fallen onto stony ground
Scooped up by flocks of hungry stars
Bursting from the parting clouds
Words scattered, gobbled up
And gone, gone with the faded moon
That murmured autumn in the summer heat...
Put the pen down, dreamer
You cannot write on sky.
