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Wrinkles Behind Glass
The heat of summer
has melted into October
imperceptibly
changes are arriving
dressed in their fall colors
as if they never had
anything else in their wardrobe
And it’s a masquerade ball
of leaves in golden browns
and scrawny arms
(especially the length between
elbow and shoulder)
where the bark folds into itself
in a way you never noticed
when you wore long sleeves and greenery
to protect you from the sun
Now only the evergreens watch
unchanged, haughty in their needles
like stern sentinels over the dog’s kennel
while over there, in the kitchen, listening
to the wind rise, you stir thickness
into hearty soup, close the curtains
so as not to think about the mounds of leaves,
and walk past mirrors quickly
so as not to see too closely
the spread of wintry wrinkles
writing their own story
year by year
in faintly visible hair cracks
across the glass
© Johnmichael Simon
2007
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