October 1st Mournings for the Passing of Plum Season

Last Summer plum—

wrinkly purple.

—

October in the

produce section—

no plums at all.

—

Indian Summer

ends. No more ripe plums,

No more cherries.

—-

Last gasp of Summer—

one wrinkled plum.

(This last one is the best thing I’ve written in a long, long time.)

Two variations on a theme...

Black Winter's night,
twinkling stars.
Beautiful cold.

-----------------

This Winter night--
even the stars look cold!

Rewrite! (8/6/2024)

Huddling in my blankets--

tonight even the stars 

look cold!.

I bundled black socks (9/24/14)

I bundled black socks: 
the pile of faded color
depressed me.

9/1/14

Summer's end?  Not here:
black and white birds fly past
parched grass to a green tree.

Out of inky black...

Out of grey and black,

the moon shows only most of

her smiling face.

The water is cloudy...

The water is cloudy
and the petals edged with black--
heads bow on soft stems.

On a Clear Night...

Famous fog absent,
surrounded by inky black,
the City glitters.