by P J Krass
Even the trees are holding their breath
The date by which their leaves should have turned
pumpkin banana blood
has long passed
Now a kind of dull grey paint
flecked with brown persists
as though the leaves were camouflaged for battle
and something essential they needed from the soil
had gone missing
The cold night serves notice of autumn’s reign
Knowing what’s expected, the trees hold back
Some maybe half dream of rolling back summer
The others look ahead
to blue ice white snow black sleet
they try though it isn’t easy
to imagine
the tender green of spring
The date by which their leaves should have turned
pumpkin banana blood
has long passed
Now a kind of dull grey paint
flecked with brown persists
as though the leaves were camouflaged for battle
and something essential they needed from the soil
had gone missing
The cold night serves notice of autumn’s reign
Knowing what’s expected, the trees hold back
Some maybe half dream of rolling back summer
The others look ahead
to blue ice white snow black sleet
they try though it isn’t easy
to imagine
the tender green of spring
Poems by PJ Krass have appeared in journals including Rattle, American Journal of Poetry, Atlanta Review, Stickman Review, Connecticut River Review, Chaleur, Caesura and The New Verse News. He teaches at The Writers Studio, an independent writing school founded by Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Philip Schultz. PJ is also the poetry co-editor of an anthology, The Writers Studio at 30.
