Emmie van Duren

Emmie van Duren Oct 2015

Oh, whispering whine
of my evening tormentor,
on my blood you dine.
Your song of high pitch
heralds your vampire habit
and leaves spots which itch;
Red, lumpy unwantedness
peeps out from my summer dress.

Emmie van Duren Oct 2015

metamorphosis

Underneath a leaf,
curled away from scorching sun
the caterpillars sleep.

Emmie van Duren Oct 2015

Fall

The ash weeps red leaves.
Mournfully they spiral down
and the bare branch grieves.

Emmie van Duren Oct 2015

In my garden

White blossom breezes
herald crisp apple harvest;
mem'ry that pleases.
Heavy pollen bearers sing
hums of summer on the wind.

— The End —