Cellared

Stripped of shade and care
Forgotten fruit ripened
Fell from the vine
Dead stipulations, expectations
Dreams crushed
Fermented to wine

Seasons come and go
Flowers bud and bloom … a new harvest
Sweetly devoured by an insatiable hunger of two

Then comes the drought
Too much, too little
Fruit browns to rust
Ole Bacchus calls ...
Cellared beneath a blanket of dust

Open the cask; still alive; let it breathe
I wish you happy; I wish you well
Lips part, taste … wish you with me

The Maple's Sanguine Lament

Lamented the maple upon an autumnal zephyr

Don’t just stand there. Help me! Help me!
All the blood has rushed to my leaves
Can’t you see; look, I’m flashing bright carmine
Soon enough, I’ll have dropped all my sanguine

The evergreen shook its verdant boughs in disapproval

You complain, complain and bellow
So what; you’re puce, the oak yellow
Oh my, Red, but you are the drama queen
All I ever get to wear is dark green

The maple inflated its foliage upon the next gust

You’re missing the point, needled one
Call them flame, russet, rubicund
Once they fall; the wind’s had its evil fun
To lasting death, and for good, I’ll succumb

The evergreen chortled with a growing northern

Look here. You’ll take not your last breath
To sleep you’ll fall, not to your death
Shed every last sheaf of bright vermillion
It’s to bed for you, clad in white woollen

The evergreen stilled then, gave the softest of whisper

To sweet dreams, not the hereafter
You’ll rise with the rain’s pitter-patter
Oui, mon arbre, you will last out the polar
Awaken with spring, to bloom and to flower

The Whim of the Wind

a city seed, sets sail
bonne chance
soil or sewer
at the whim of the wind