A gray and splashy Autumn sky,

that weeps into its misty beard,

or sighs with chill and gusty breath,

his lover lost, a season drear.

 

She drops a brilliant handkerchief.

A shower of leaves in brown and gold,

to offer him a chance to be

her beau, now that the Fall is here.

 

He swoops to pluck one from the ground,

tossing it into the air,

pursues it down the shining street,

a prize from a new season fair.

 

They pirouette in dance, those two,

to music of the Autumn’s storm.

They shriek with laughter in the night

and chase the hours into the dawn.

 

The wind has swept the clouds away.

The sun beams with an orange hue.

The sky is happy once again,

the weeping spent, his lover true.

 

 

David Garlick, Victoria, 1988