autumn hush

round the hushful green
greener even
for the dying drifts
of leaves’ last hurrah
crows gather and glide
trailing darker days behind
the crisp skim of feet
over tiny yellow moments
the birches tick off
spates of time that fall
with the rusted petals
of the last late roses
brittle with the day’s demise
moon’s crescent smiles
ablaze with her secret
for her stars breathe brighter
when winter’s lull descends

© Sarah Whiteley

…with a nod to Mr. Lew and his smiling moon…

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