I have not given up summer.
\nWhy does the snow,
\nfall on my green flowers?
\nWhy does the wind,
\ncurl like an icy leaf
\naround my anemones?
\nThe party is not over.
\nI did not pray for snow.
\nSnow to cover the brown wistfulness
\nof the end.
\nThe leaving.
\nTo brighten the gray scud of low clouds.
\nI am not ready.
\nThe flowers are not ready.
\nWe still, like lovers,
\nenjoy each other.<\/p>\n
The sun like a bronze shield
\nwas still warm on the grass.
\nSummer still wore its light blouse
\nof silk wind,
\nof pure fingers,
\nand then what happened?
\nI rise,
\nand find snow putting lace on the street.
\nI open the window,
\nand dead dreams rush in
\nwith last gasps of perfume,
\nand I close my eyes,
\ninhaling the orange, the yellow,
\nthe red sweetness,
\nthe humid words of love
\nfrom the dew,
\nand know it is over.<\/p>\n
The snow is coming,
\nthe blue twilights,
\nand brass cymbals of dawn.
\nThe lounging chair by the door,
\nwatching the destruction
\nof all the boxes and baskets of summer.
\nLoving the fall,
\nthe early arrival of the snow queen,
\nbut wanting the summer,
\nlike a child called in from play.
\nI am not ready to come in,
\nto sleep,
\nto wait all those days for spring.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I have not given up summer. Why does the snow, fall on my green flowers? Why does the wind, curl like an icy leaf around…<\/p>\n