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Wrinkles Behind Glass

The heat of summer

has melted into October


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

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© Johnmichael Simon



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