gone (like September)

the plum blossoms

suddenly they’re gone
and all I see
is young green

where
did white go

the oaks
are small life
and bud leaves

the view I had
through bare branches
has begun to close

and the cherry flowers
are bursting
here and there
like popcorn

they have waited out the frost
and now they sing

September
is gone

September
is gone

I don’t know
what happened
or when
the change began
but the view from my window
is evolving
with every blink
of my eye

there’s a Wattle Bird
perched
on the Magpie throne

there’ll be trouble on the way
if he remains
but …
he’s already moved along

nothing is the same
I
blame the weather

I accuse
the season

I do not care
for changes
that happen every time
I look away

I do not like
these changes

---

© Frank Prem, 2017

September 2017 Poem #35: the dwindling