Magazine December 31, 2016, Issue

Poetry

AUTUMN SONG

after Chassignet

Little flower, you live in constant danger:

Likely to be crushed under foot or torn by wind,

Sun-scorched or gobbled by a goat.

These October days streaked with regrets and tears

Are like you, brindled flower, as they bloom

And fade, harried by heat as much as by the cold.

Our ship sets out to sea, not with ivory or gold

In the hold, but with fragrant apples for cargo. Just so

My days are not heavy but delicate, fleeting and vain,

Leaving behind the sweet, faint scent of renown

That quickly will vanish like the taste of fruit

Passing from the tongues and hearts of …

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Politics & Policy

Poetry

AUTUMN SONG after Chassignet Little flower, you live in constant danger: Likely to be crushed under foot or torn by wind, Sun-scorched or gobbled by a goat. These October days streaked with regrets and tears Are ...
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