Summer, Disembodied Poem by Fred Rik Kesner

'summer, disembodied'


Cruel, Perhaps
all summer
the body paraded itself
along avenues of light
wearing sunlight
as though it had tailored it
for its own shoulders

every branch applauded
with a thousand green hands
and the air
kept flattering the leaves
into believing
they belonged forever

then came the season
that would not compliment
nothing dramatic
in its loosening
a notch surrendered
on the belt of the year
a cooler glance
across the mirror

one by one
the bright notes detached
drifting down
to gather at the roots
where praise eventually goes
there they lay
creased gold
muted bronze
a correspondence
summer had no wish to read

the tree stood barer
than it preferred
yet closer
to what it was
and the wind
for all its rough instruction
seemed to know
that kindness is not always
the art of adorning
sometimes
it is the hand
that removes the costume
and leaves it
in a heap at your feet

so that when the long cold passes
and another procession forms
the branches will wear
their brightness
less as a possession
more as a loan
from a season
already learning
to let go









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