Waist bent in weighted bow
to late summer's waved breeze
she stands, heavy, in plum rustic rosy bloom.
Spike of budded secrets still tip her head
against an autumn come so soon.
Broad, downy leaves funnel light
blood heat rain to roots in bliss.
Frothed Baby's Breath foam at her feet,
while star gazey daisy's tutu blazes white.
All smile at the sun's riotous encore.
Sweet dancers all, at old garden wall,
those stones have seen you rise and fall
to rise again, as seasons change,
playbills of youth rewritten.
minor edit 08.04.16