Saturday, November 7, 2009

The World Was Still

The world was still--ah! Fragrant, still
A spice across the floating cloud
A horse, uprisen head against
The auger of the graceful hill,
And lips drawn back to catch the taste
Of fluttering pods and seeds
That like the stars, were scattered
In the field of blowing weeds;
And soon, the moon peeping behind
Summer curtains fresh-glittering in
The wind, that have grown red
Like maple's leaves
From Mama changing the laundry line.
Everything was different when
The world was still, and autumn's grin
Had pressed its savagery upon
The world.

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