The sky was a sanctuary-dome blue,
filled with pearly puffs of cloud one imagines
pillowing chubby cherubim
Grass was the lush dark green of springtime,
ironically well-watered this year,
thick and long, a bovine’s dream.
Leafy branches swayed overhead in time
to the gusting of a September breeze, a song
sending cascades of falling leaves swirling
through invisible trills of eddies and currents.
Summer escaped on those balmy winds
and in the soft afternoon sunshine
and tangle of late-blooming gardens,
while autumn crept in unnoticed
behind innocent cloud billows,
on the wings of visiting Monarchs,
under the curled leaves of the last browning rose.
published by St.Anthony’s Messenger
first published in St. Anthony’s Messenger
also published in FLOOR OF THE SKY Chapbook
©2003 Bonnie Manion