The spiked limes of chestnut plummet and burst,
Gaping like fledglings’ mouths, disgorging nuts
Glossy as foals. The sunspot dahlia, cursed
By rust, sags, and the mauve aster abuts
The ground. Apples, pears, blush ripe and are gathered;Plums are downy like cheeks, though whitepox mould
Rots the fallen. Leafage, jaundiced and weathered
Like skin, dangles dolefully, rueing the cold.
Night darkness deepens and sunrise is damp;Mist like a low tide sluices the coppice.
Birds are silent; and, bodies in a hump,
Folk rush to work, their faces like pumice.
The angry wasp dies. Unmindful, the sheepIn the fields await slaughter. Autumn’s effacement
Looms, and like children feverish in sleep
Folk fidget, resisting the abatement
Of blood and flesh. Post-equinox, the rainsAt last begin – a drenching, drumming fall
From cloud like a taut sheet, engulfing drains,
Stained with the city’s lights like yellow gall.
A gale follows. Mountainous gun-metal cloudInvests the horizon. Battle-primed wind
Assaults the sopping ash trees, barrels loud
In subways. Later, the assault declined,
Sunlight cracks the siege towers’ plinths and domes,Searing them gold and white with lacquers, chromes.
====================© October 2012