There is antediluvian power
\nin the flood of leaves,
\nthe scrimshaw of words
\non their pages.
\nEach with the victory
\nof an ancient creed.
\nPoems, still as children
\nbefore their birth.
\nThe tango of time
\npausing, then swirling.<\/p>\n
I have seen a crown of gold
\ncircle about your head.
\nLeaves as yellow as the
\nhoney of summer,
\nanointing its fragile queen.
\nA blizzard of yellow,
\nas if the trees
\nwere a storm whistling
\nin daylight.<\/p>\n
That is you in your autumn realm.
\nThat is you,
\nforever imprinted
\nin the majesty of your youth.
\nComing, season by season,
\nin a coronation of hope
\nand beauty.<\/p>\n
Spring comes quietly.
\nBut autumn
\nis a joy of carousel and song.
\nThe last burst of red geraniums,
\nwan violets teased into bloom
\nbefore winter.
\nAnd you, ageless
\nas the release of autumn\u2019s glory,
\ndear girl,
\nwho is a princess queen.
\nDestiny in love.
\nBefore we sleep winter away.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There is antediluvian power in the flood of leaves, the scrimshaw of words on their pages. Each with the victory of an ancient creed. Poems,…<\/p>\n