Poetry, Uncategorized

A Poem for Penny

We lie under chestnut trees to feel the crunch
Of red and gold. The leaves’ last sighs pile high
And can’t be teased from messy hair. We fight,
Throw fist-fulls that float off, then launch
From the first branch with squeeze-tight hands. A pair
Of pirate-divers search for forest pearls
In urchin shells: hidden in moss, in fern furled
Tight, stems droopy from the frost. The games and dares
End. Maturity calls from the back door.
I go up the steps with you tucked in my coat
And the flames of a sunk-sun October
Behind us. We can’t return. You can’t go out:
I prop you on the window ledge so you can see
The squirrels play under the chestnut trees.