September 30th
Rose-apricot washes sky between
Black filigree of oak and pine.
The park now whispers amber-green
As autumn pours its wine.
Leaves curl upon the cooling ground
As lamps first punctuate a path.
The day, like many lives, has browned
Into an aftermath.
And yet resilience might yet glean
New wisdom from mistake and pain,
And like the reaching evergreen
Make resin from the rain.
Posted 08/26/13
first published in Resin from the Rain (Rose Alley Press, 2002)