My september’s of a frozen year
i could feel it coming on back
behind august like a freight train
it rang bells in the towers’ heads
calling church and school loud and clear
the children new and bundled
in knit cheery colored scarves, dark
hued jeans and stains of sleeves
covering fading tanned arms…
the older ones, people who stalk
the churchyard in searches lost and long
ago, feeling the colder winds chill
their bones; they are like fenceposts
whitewashed in the summer rains
now the wet paint is stripped off
and they are just blanched and dried
like crinkling fallen red and golden
leaves under burgundy-booted feet…
Laces cracked and snapping with light
My ankles are sturdy against the harvest
soil, packed and hard and black
how I love this dying time
when Persephone haunts the iron gates
that are headstones of places’ entry ways
how she sings a sullen hymn
her hair is the red rusted cluster of
the treetops, flame in the sky’s siren pool
flame in my vision when the green cools
feel like a witch in Salem old tyme
crucified for my love of this, hollow
season’s prime, like its my secret
the spell is in the air without me
I am velvet when I walk within it
The child of autumn tapestry.
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