When you are already here you appear
To be only a name that tells of you whether
You are present or not and for now
It seems as though you are still summer

Still the high familiar endless summer
With a glint of bronze in the chill mornings
And the late yellow petals of the mullein
Fluttering on the stalks that lean over their

Broken shadows across the cracked ground
But they all know that you have come the
Seed heads of the sage the whispering birds
With nowhere to hide you to keep you for later

You who fly with them are neither of those,
Before nor after you who arrive with blue plums,
Those have fallen through the night perfect in the dew,
As a swaying bead chain slipping in the moonlight,
You are but a perspicuous lucid fluttering in the night,
“By Andrew Guzaldo © 12/14/2020 Posted HP #196