But I miss you most of all my darling,
when autumn leaves start to fall
Autumn's MercyWriter : Dawn Fung
Forty steps before an audible crunch
I noticed the black and yellow
stripes - previously strong hues,
of a dead bumblebee
discoloured three weeks in the cold.
It had been buried and warmed
by the weight of falling leaves,
saturated until the last gale blew, cajoled
and pried open the narrow glade
humbled for the coming frost.
Its withering frame had been left
unscarred by rains - protected by
wet, brown veins of soft surfaces
sliding upon each other in
nature's accreted camouflage.
Wings unbroken, it now snuggles
beneath the forest blanket,
tucked between the ears of a frozen blade.
The rested guest quietly sleeps
in the comfort of autumn's mercy.
I know full well this pardon : that
it will never wake to darkened sounds,
nor shiver through the bleak
passageways, nor stutter words that echo
wildly under the oblique sun, nor fear
the lonesome shape of the beast
that trod it on the wintry floor
when January's unforgiving hours come.