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Autumn on Some Street

I saw a billowing tree
which had for months stood
and soaked the sun's oils
into her skin
until she became
a flowering fountain,
--her yellow energy eruptive--
splaying herself
without shame
against a dark, polished sky.
She was herself...
and a living metaphor
of the flowering fountain
of me: standing dumb on the street,
blandished to throw my arms out wide,
while soaking in the infallible
golden waves of light that flowed
through a tree
like rivers laughing.

Poem © Blake Steele 1997
Image © Blake Steele 2010
May be copied freely for non commerical use only