She Weeps For Summer
In autumn's brisk crimson
she weeps for summer.
September courts her
with scarlet and fire,
but xanthic plains
and sun's saffron blush
on cobalt lakes
stain her cheeks.
She'll sleep
in winter's bereft cloister,
the lambent trickle
of peach orchards
seeping into her dreams,
memories embossed
on a gold-stained pillow.
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