The limbs that dart ad hominem
From terrible blue skies
Bury all the summer with them
As leaf by leaf it dies,

Adding each of us like tree rings
To the stories in the cliffs
(Hidden engineerings
Of history’s rotting gifts);

Like watch springs beating seconds
As whole galaxies drive by,
The snare of fallen glory beckons
With the lifeline of a fly:

The ruins of the season write
Over this year’s mortal stains,
Effacing with their life the height
Of the world’s bright remains.

Tippet Alley
September 28th

Tail N621QS
Via Estrada
September 30th and October 5th, 2007

April 19th, 2016