Sequin
By Paul Cameron Brown
A youthful bandit
this forest -
faltering eyelids in mud troughs
& puddles like
brisk lies
woven thru deception.
Stealing autumn into
its colours,
leaves in birchbark rustle
a full mauraud stealth
across every breeze.
Thief, thief
elf with a key,
a thousand rasping angels
their throaty javelins
hurled from branch's edge,
brief pageant robbing
summer's pantry.
Offal of the fall,
the lake a sequined glove
tossed from a careless hand;
a rowboat as a buckle
chromatic foam
for a finger's fan.