A Madhouse of Grandeur

My daughter in London sends me pictures of beautiful hardwoods, full of golden leaves, found on Hampstead Heath. For the most part, our trees are now bare. But before we withdraw from this season of color, here is an homage to autumn.

A Madhouse of Grandeur

              A kaleidoscope

          of clarets and mauves,

tangerines and saffrons run amok,

flashing against indigos and sages.

          But now, dullness drugs

the eyes, segments mock time, forever

                      pushing.

    Too soon this panache of autumn

              finds itself underfoot,

  resplendent until brittleness creeps in.

      Where, today, the variegated jazz,

        the funhouse colliding mirrors?

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor