Last Summer
Upon the tended trail I tarry
beneath a Crabapple canopy
weaving a Vervain keepsake basket
and braiding blades for grass bracelets
while singing to Crescent butterflies
alighting on blossoms of Sweet Joe Pye
near berries I pluck from their thorny stem
wondering who will look after them
and the reed wreath I’ve left among the trees
in the hope that they'll remember me
when all farewells are finally sung
and the last garland is wistfully hung
and wind ribbons wrap the Aspen grove
lifting the treasures I last wove
the day long wished-for wishes came true
and the Forget-Me-Nots lost their blue
to a season whose time was ending
and to a dream whose way was wending.
Gianetta Ellis © 2011
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