Upon a time of elder tale,
No argument to draw, no scale,
Just bits and pieces rogue left,
And power-gravity you felt.

I wish this year back to you,
With all the moments, used and new,
Unspeakable flow-play of tides,
Foreseen to link, ought to divide.

To go beyond the dialogues' flaws
For summer fruits, - what could be more?
Yet, may be, in another way
An answer comes to autumn pray,

And in the icy, dirty line
It may be written in disguise,
That fearless, tender, sparkling rose
May never been what you need most.

Upon a tale, saddest crust
Of fallen snows filled the glass:
- For routes all new! For lots to ask...
For every other joy to last.

July 2024