Last Phase Poem by Lois Read

Last Phase



I cannot cut them down,
the rich brown cones of the balck-eyed-susans,
golden skirts shed
standing tall against morning bright grass.
It is their last hurrah
the final phase
of sun-blest summer
undaunted
by the passing of their prime
framed by timid green fringe
they reach up
on still strong stems
unadorned affirmation
of their core.

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Lois Read

Lois Read

Chicago, Illinois
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