October is forever emerald
it has a poetic ring -but why conjure dull browns
under overcast skies, or rejoice in the primal
passing glories of decay
the Yew stands in for heaven
there's a beryllium stone half-buried
securely verdant in a velvet box
these years make wearing hard to bear
early on it was already almost Autumn
August just a passing fancy
till late September sealed us up in sanctity
and even with that fatal disengagement
an ultimatum unforseen, still October is
enduringly green, as the emerald
on my hand, unseen
Putting this in the Poetry Pantry with the other collections for some Sunday reading
PoetryPix 