Pirouetting Autumn

The tree blushed - a rude blast of air
Betrayed a shapely bough. 
My saddened heart aware
That Nature's clock was chiming, 
I froze upon the twelfth 
Clanging tone, caught alone, 
Staring at a creaking door -
Left ajar for dancing, coloured Autumn, 
Pirouetting in her leaves, 
While agitated summer creatures
Backed away resignedly, 
Sighing in protracted breves.
I turned; gave company; 
We stood together, watching
Summer slowly blow away.


Mark Slaughter