A distant roar as from mysterious seas,
A still hushed sound descended from the eaves;
The lazy warm wind dallied with the leaves
And drifted the elm-seeds from the swirling trees.
Elm shadows cooled the sidewalks for our toes,
Edgeless shadows, moving in a blur;
The spring green pods on the honey locusts
Swung and disappeared in summer verdure;
The so did we: ephemeral as a breeze
Our fleeting hour dissolved in falling leaves;
Then there was nothing left: the silken breeze
Itself turned sullen and went off to grieve.
Now other winds, November winds, descend,
And how I wish these dreams of you would end!
copyright 1990 Anissa Nedzel Gage