there is a pause
that rests quietly in the golden leaves
dropped as summer's homage to autumn's brevity
the coins flutter and fall
an amassed treasure beyond compare?
yes! says the still green grass,
riches spread as cloak for a king.
come tussle and roll in the sun
for soon winter will demand our sleep
open your mouth and taste the rays
sliding down your throat
swallow them into your abdomen
where they can be held safe
for another spring.
mj 10.6.17 poem and photo