An Early Fall
The Summer closes in an early Fall,
late August with the maples' leafy bleed.
Now crimson whispers echo sirens' call
of nascent frost, to nestle unborn seed,
to glow in fire, then ginger, and indeed,
though swans sing not the day on which they die,
the summer trills its blazing final cry.
9/15/17
Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment