Summer's Tent Folds

[virtuoso]

Summer's creep has ended:

searching tendril tips

have reached their zenith

borne their dividend;

the repast enjoyed

remnants cached

pruning hooks laid in store

preening hands atrophied

leaving neglected beds

dressed with dry clods.

Tangles of vines

with milkweed bows

girdle each stake;

mangled umbilical cords

ready to release

their dry gourds

which, in turn,

are ready to discharge

the rotting pulp

from distended bowels.

Stalks no longer spire

nor their tassels salute,

mounting fall winds

garnish their seeds.

The summer cactus

fruit is dry-rotted

and its prickly spines

now sterile pimples

yield no sting.

Summer's refuse lingers still.