The End Of Summer
Petrarchan Sonnet. What held the ripe green apple to the stem...
What held the ripe green apple to the stem,
and held the clustered acorns to the oak,
grew old and weary, till at last it broke
and Fall began to drum a requiem.
The weeping willow tore her tattered hem
and shed gold tears when colder winds awoke
to sing the Agnus Dei. Cricket-croak
and locust-song were counterpoint to them.
And now, the owl unfurls its dappled wings
and soars below the moon. Beneath a leaf,
a cautious but ambitious rodent gains
the confidence to venture out, which brings
about catastrophe, albeit brief,
as autumn picks through summer’s sere remains.
--Vaughn Fritts
and held the clustered acorns to the oak,
grew old and weary, till at last it broke
and Fall began to drum a requiem.
The weeping willow tore her tattered hem
and shed gold tears when colder winds awoke
to sing the Agnus Dei. Cricket-croak
and locust-song were counterpoint to them.
And now, the owl unfurls its dappled wings
and soars below the moon. Beneath a leaf,
a cautious but ambitious rodent gains
the confidence to venture out, which brings
about catastrophe, albeit brief,
as autumn picks through summer’s sere remains.
--Vaughn Fritts
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