In fairy dust, and dry oak leaves
autumn climbs upon its throne
feeling tree limbs shudder their woe
of coming frost to strip them to skeletons.
Dressed in sun yellow and orange crush
the forest sings its song of slumber praying
the season’s interlude will be kind to weathered wombs
who are hand maidens to capricious seasons.
In the crushed breath of fallen leaves wild things
dress in cinnamon frocks to dance as ghosts
through hours shortened by the moon’s demand
her star bearers cut sunset into sapphire.
As the shadow quilt of the canopy becomes threadbare
thoughts wrap themselves in candle flames and memories
to strengthen the spirit for soulful hours of imagining
sunlight grows from the center of a light bulb.
Comments
"... her star bearers cut sunset into sapphire..." I like how you incorporate the Sun, stars, and the Moon with active parts. Then at the end relegating Sunlight's source as a light bulb.
..
dress in cinnamon frocks to dance as ghosts
through hours shortened by the moon’s demand
her star bearers cut sunset into sapphire.“
How stunning this is, Susie!