What do they mean, who say
The world has gone awry?
The trees leave every day.
I saw them in July,
As green as the heart of man.
I see men stiffly clad,
Colored in gray and tan,
Calling our summer bad
For insufficient shade,
Damning our leaves as small,
Making their wrath a blade,
Hurrying us to fall.
If only our lives were sad,
If we saw that we had
Outlasted our summer stay,
They'd happily love us all
And tidy us away.
1 comment:
the men in grey and tan. Wonderful imagery, Richard. A sort of summer is around the corner here I suppose.
I have to catch up on your poems--I've been caught up in blah too many days!
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