Autumn reminders

In the red of the creeper
I acknowledge her,
in the death of this jungle summer garden,
in the howl of soaring wind through sea lined trees,
and the reflection of her well-loved figure beneath throbbing Moon,
I know who she was then,
I ache
as trees for leaves, long lost of first seasons, falls and fruiting,
for the fruit she'd have bore
to feed your harvest,
for the fruit we
watched rot on the ground.