Not Summer, Not Autumn

a poem about late August..

a picture has fallen off the wall,

broken glass as water in a pool

the late sun steals the tint

from a bronzed arm, standing air

tense and stretched

with the threat of shattered light;

petals sicken and harden

and limp like crippled lovers

as buried leaves crawl into roots,

curled like parchment, a garden

of open mouths; yellow toothed and begging,

faithless ghosts uneasy over dull clay;

a day granular in frozen time; 

the moon hidden under the earth.

Reviews

[Tina Kline]

I enjoyed this a lot. Outstanding description and imagery. I sure enjoyed!!

[Tate Morgan]

Hi Les Hope you are well.Is it summer or is it fall I can hardly tell at all. One day its hot the next its not . .An interesting composition

[Inspiring Writer]

Great write, words're powerful.

[Ken Simm.]

This strikes me as a very well composed photograph. It is visually rich and yet full also of metaphor and lovely language.

[Coyote Song]

A very differente and impressive written view of of a time between summer and autumn. Amazing descriptions used, very different and some rather eerie. I really like this. You have such a unique voice, one which always enjoy reading.