Untie the leaf and let it drop.
Shrivel each wing of the stuttering moth.
Shrink the sun, let loose the dark
to stripe the sky-beast's paneled heart
heavy with more than it can hold;
let the rain come hard and cold,
each death's-head drop a memoir told
of summer's wasting, long-winded decline.
Freeze the fruit and kill the vine
that can't be mine.
posted for real toads
Optional Musical Accompaniment
Image: Untitled, by Zdislav Beksinkski Fair Use
Fall Fade ©joyannjones 2014