In water, clear and warm she lay
She floated like the evening
as she searched for spring
She found concealed imaginings
and sighed
as she stepped upon the shore
with spent emotions
among the leaves there
she found, like dew,
an old devotion
She walked upon the grass
on timid feet quivering
while the wind wavered
like a breath upon her hand
and muted its message.
SEPTEMBER and
the Web has been WOVEN
and she has to wear it
Winter is made
and you have to bear it
The Winter Web Woven with Wind
And all the thought of summers
that could have been
Like straw moppets of rags
It is all that you are
Woven and waiting to be Worn
Not as mask or as a garment
But as a being
Torn from summer
For the Mirror of Cold
Struggling in the shattered sun.