Indian summer – poem – Web Chapbook Issue: www.webdelsol.com/tlr/
John E. Smelcer
There are things measured in life by death.
The village girl’s slow dying taught me this–
how false summer renders dim-witted
perceptions of nature’s unpredicted ways
as morning rises
like a thin dark blue pencil stroke
blending into seamless sky.
After a time dawn slightly thins,
while the measuring earth gathers
its victory of snow which soon will howl
through the bared bones of hollow forests.
I watch as the slow dance of summer is harvested,
knowing I’ve darker woods to walk than these.
COPYRIGHT 1998 Fairleigh Dickinson University
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group