The sun at apogee, an empire all of light.
The sweet corn basks and ripens in its rays.
All memory of winter
has melted from our minds.
Yet even now the worm lies in the bud, one day to blast it.
The long limbs of daylight that had stretched and stretched
now imperceptibly
begin to shrink:
even as the cosmos
attains its outmost limit,
and sighs back
to collapse.
Alas, the Elves of Ice
lurk still in northern forests,
plotting their return.
No comments:
Post a Comment