aries blinds one of four

petulance projected as virtue
on a sunset autumn day.

in this glow it is easy
to forget the purple crocuses
that fooled us, poking,
through the goat white spring,
mocking the melting snow.

no so easy to forget:
the maternal hands
that grasped me so.

only the leaves,
in their quiet drift towards mulch,
enjoyed the leafy grimace,
welcomed the crispy collapse
that bedded the laughing corps:

in the quiet, with eyes closed,
we heard their joking games.

only the trunks had their say,
stoic despite the glamor:
they alone barked a pose unspoken
with gray and grasping tears
and stood alone against the glowing leaves.

the deep sages only pondered,
terribly alone,
hoping not to make a racket.