Seasons in the Ravine #10

Under the six dragon sun of summer
intermittent streams stagnate in pools.
Through the foraging iridescent blackbirds
the white butterfly darts its random path.

Sitting on the porch of the cabin listening
to the roar of traffic through the foliage,
days are divorced from the cycle of seasons,
runes no longer message what's to come.

The heat eats the day and the cicadas
sharpen their knives in the maple trees.
Leaves of spring are the non-leaves of autumn,
this once & ever instance, not to be seen again.
 
    PJ Laska