For a non-autumnal city
The fallings off are phenomenal.
Continents weight the red
Leaves that do not fall here.
Glaciers ride the early
Airs that do not bite.
Magisterial Death strides
Through avenues that do not
Blaze here. Sorrow is the only
Secret pact that this city
Of heat and rain makes
With the drifting down of winter.
Only the flowering of grief
On its roundabout trees,
Falls silent, in riotous flakes.