Bethlehem, New Hampshire
October curtain, bronze and red,
aflame without fire, a cold burning,
draws a little, reveals a lake,
a pale voiceless glittering
where leaves will soon enough cross
like scattered brown footprints
over the rippling face of water,
at the behest of northern winds.
A forest, less lively, more beautiful,
is gracious in its weariness,
hunkers down in ritual, not fear,
in phantoms past and just beginning.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Stand, Washington Square Review and Sheepshead Review. Latest books, ”Between Two Fires”, “Covert” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and California Quarterly..
Evocative autumnal footprint