1682

Summer begins to have the look
Peruser of enchanting Book
Reluctantly but sure perceives
A gain upon the backward leaves—

Autumn begins to be inferred
By millinery of the cloud
Or deeper color in the shawl
That wraps the everlasting hill.

The eye begins its avarice
A meditation chastens speech
Some Dyer of a distant tree
Resumes his gaudy industry.

Conclusion is the course of All
At most to be perennial
And then elude stability
Recalls to immortality.

1501

Its little Ether Hood
Doth sit upon its Head—
The millinery supple
Of the sagacious God—

Till when it slip away
A nothing at a time—
And Dandelion’s Drama
Expires in a stem.

She observed herself
Standing fast in clouds of steam
This felt so unreal.

Remote perspective
Would make survivable the
Dreaded encounter.

The necessities:
Tickets, porter, clock,
Time creeping along.

Maintained a distance
And staunch objectivity
‘Til the last moment.

Final words spoken,
All defenses splintering
She paused, one last look.

One last chance to stay,
Vanquished, punished, forbidden
The wide world’s  pageant.
.
Point of inflexion.
The tug of the familiar
The pull of the known

Would invert the arc,
Intended trajectory,
Retrogressively.

And then, there it was:
Unctuous, demeaning smile,
Withering and cruel.

Pierced by well-honed fleer,
She reflexively shuddered
Like fly-stung horseflesh.

Ears roaring; face flushed
She felt foolish, faint-hearted,
humiliated.

One breath, and one more,
Forcing herself to stare down
Scorn and ridicule.

Then chin uplifted
And breath becalmed, she nodded
And scant smiled Adieu.

Thus the poetess
Righted her millinery,
Spun on her bootheel,

Snapped her parasol,
gave her bustle a barely
Perceptible shake,

And with solemn mien,
But mirthful eyes, she set forth
For better morrow.