It was a green unmellow morning
with the dew drying honey on the grass
and the sky eyeblue through air like ice
and the leaves clawclinging to the trees
when I saw Autumn
with the morning wind in his dew honey hair
and the light of the iceblue sky in his eyes,
and laughing, he knelt
and dug his fingers into the earth.

I wrote this in 1971, clearly under the influence of Dylan Thomas and G.M. Hopkins.

This entry was posted in Seasons.

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