Fall
You were well furnished once,
abundantly appointed and
basking before Fall…
…Now the quicksilver
falls quickly and,
Job-like in stoic silence,
you refuse to ask why, but shed
all that fed you, coloured you,
until bare-limbed you stand
trunk-naked
in the slipping light,
the bracken carpet
sheep-trodden at your root;
wooden, still,
you arbor aparition,
your silvered armature
birched by the wind but
untroubled by the chill,
animation suspended
bronchi in apnoea
trusting only in Spring
and the promises rings hold.(c) KB 2011