End of the Season

The season of wrinkles
and over ripeness
has arrived
too soon.
Shriveled buds.
Fruits bursting open,
their seeds drying out,
beginning to crinkle
and wrinkle.
Beginning to split
and break.
Beginning to moulder
and dribble with damp.
Their past spring
a distant dream.
Or not remembered at all.
Faded
away
like the fresh shoots
of hopeful green growth.

Even the memories of the
florid, blowzy summer’s blooms
are fading.
Fading fast
and faster.

Perhaps this season of dry
dampness
has been here a while
and I haven’t noticed.
It’s been approaching
a long time.
Slow at first
imperceptible.
Speeding up, then
quickening.
But still
imperceptible
almost
unnoticeable
as everything
slows down
quickly.
So quickly
now.

I think that winter has arrived.
The season is over,
finished
lost

beyond returning.
​
http://www.versewrights.com/white-lynn.html

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