Was that a Brimstone that fell
to earth or the first sulphurous leaf
tiring of Summer?
Throughout these dusty aeons of August
plants have grown tired of exhibition
energy of leaf and petal sapped
they flop and desiccate along the borders
yearning to convalesce
Backstage the blue and purple daisy faces
stand in line, attendant on their cue
when Autumn burns saccharine.
Times are though when I wish to harry the days
call it a wrap, throw a nonchalant shawl with a shrug
and close the shutters at four
Am joining the Tuesday link up with other poems in the Imaginary Garden
PoetryPix 