The rusty king


queen summer has collected a dusty sheen
and curtseyed to the rusty king of autumn
letting his winds dampen her warmth, she
backs away with a degree of grace
acceding to his ageless glory
leaving him to sweep redundant leaves from swaying boughs
and prepare the trees for their chilly sleep

dogs race and bow-wow, leaping and twisting
to chase the papery waste
children dirt-skate and kick
thrilled by the dry rustle, they always
think the season will last forever
viewing the world through green eyes
as every inch of the day
s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s  a welcome to to the next
and at each bout of rain, the squelch-splash of mud
the slither and slide, the puddle wallow
and even she sting of the slippery fall
is received with a giggle

the laughter sinks through stricken earth
into the bowels, giving cheer to all who hear it

©Jane Paterson Basil


11 thoughts on “The rusty king

    1. Thank you Calen. Do you prefer Calen, Cheryl or Cherry? I like Cherry myself.
      In England we retain a traditional pagan image of the Green Man. I imagine the Rusty King as looking like him, but covered with autumn leaves, rather than green ones.


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