~I i ~
Those eyes blue as ice
Pale Englishman came cold calling without
Flowers, proffering half-beat haikus and derring-do
Might we have orchestrated mood music instead?
Still September nights are still the saddest.
Have you rent that roving spirit with
Timetables? One slot on the regulation rota
To imbibe sweet reverie like noble rot of
Fruit fermenting in the orchard
~I ii ~
Those were once these
Pale pulsing heads of blush hydrangea.
Flowers, now a crisp-dry palette of mauves
Might envision Victoriana parlours
Still and sonorous with a grandfather clock.
Have we two faded into such a feeble history?
Time was when seasons were all summer sensation
To tickle and titillate without thought of
Fruit fermenting in the orchard
~ II ~
It seems as though you are still summer
because rememberings stay still
no note since nor single sound
no unveiled sight to cast
motes from eyes. Junebug
in amber glow
rose-tinted
ferment
void
Taking one consecutive word from a line of Karina Borowicz poem ‘September Tomatoes’ as starter for a 9-line verse: "Those/ pale /flowers /might /still /have/ time/ to /fruit" + 9-1 syllabic Nonet with opener from W.S. Merwin's “To the Light of September” for my Poetics Challenge: Nine across to countdown
PoetryPix 