Fire Tower

Tops of trees that catch the sun
Are green, even in the winter light,
Magic summer’s last illusion
Before the coming winter night,

Autumn buds that dare to grow
That green in winter light
Deluded by the alpenglow
Of the humming winter night.

For miles around, the pinnate frieze
Screens the dismal winter light,
Softening the high-blown freeze
Of the slumming winter night,

As if the moral opposite of snow,
The leafy green of summer light,
Were the bending embryo
Bordering the numbing night.

The water pipes below
The ravine now crystallite,
Our pinings will forego,
It seems, plumbing in the winter night.

The splintered metal ladder
Leans against the season light
As if there’s nothing sadder
Than winter’s drumming night.

We hold on to the setting sun,
Apple green in winter light,
Summer somehow never fully done
Before the coming winter night.

Redone September 24th, 2005, Mougins