Tuesday 30 October 2012

Summer's last shout

















Glowing in the brilliant autumn light
in an old argument learned by rote
defiantly, they fight the last fight.
Each is a blazing promissory note.
Without their death, there can be no life.
On fire, they pull back the canopy
to avoid the ruin of winter’s knife
spiral slowly to earth for you and me –
watch them sever their ties, take the plunge
like doomed aviators spinning earthbound.
Heaped into mounds of pavement grunge
their veined bodies are littering the ground.
Each brave martyr was willing to leap out.
Now, they are worm food, summer’s last shout.

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