"summer, disembodied"

Cruel, Perhaps

all summer

the body paraded itself

along avenues of light

wearing sunlight

as though it had tailored it

for its own shoulders

every branch applauded

with a thousand green hands

and the air

kept flattering the leaves

into believing

they belonged forever

then came the season

that would not compliment

nothing dramatic

in its loosening

a notch surrendered

on the belt of the year

a cooler glance

across the mirror

one by one

the bright notes detached

drifting down

to gather at the roots

where praise eventually goes

there they lay

creased gold

muted bronze

a correspondence

summer had no wish to read

the tree stood barer

than it preferred

yet closer

to what it was

and the wind

for all its rough instruction

seemed to know

that kindness is not always

the art of adorning

sometimes

it is the hand

that removes the costume

and leaves it

in a heap at your feet

so that when the long cold passes

and another procession forms

the branches will wear

their brightness

less as a possession

more as a loan

from a season

already learning

to let go

🍃🍃

🍂

.