The Vacant Lot

The panoply of summer was there
Becoming dormant for another year
In the cadaverous autumnal air
Somehow forcing thoughts of yuletide cheer.
I saw the weather beaten broom of scotch
And beleaguered heaps of blackberry vine
With Queen Anne's skeletal lace standing watch
Like ruination's only Valentine.
Fair and true she stood through the weeks of heat
And under fulsome phases of the moon
To still be reigning as we trick or treat
Around her ancient majesty of June,
Claiming bailiwicks with her faded crown...
And a spiderweb coronation gown!