Sigh and resile at such great shedding,
now
the ascetic fact of the bare, budded boughs
offering silhouettes against dissolving flare
or soft cloud-lid's grey humility,
or where
there are spared leaves, they are pinned
decorations,
or in leaf-print patterns thinned
indistinguishable from colluding skies -
and in wind they banner and dream wiles
of slipstream,
after tail-pipes roll them,
red blades spinning,
yellow points thrum,
stuttering gutterwards agin the whimsy
of a flip-flop devil's
flapping lackadaisy.
And all that show that held us in thrall
as (somehow) both audience and victim of it all,
has become what we dissolve in:
the rustling dusk
of it ruminates and chews over the day's husk.
