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On the Street Where You Live
It is one of those late autumn days
when the trees on the street
seem to have nothing to do. They stand
shivering in puddles of leaves, hands
waving to keep warm, bold rustle
of summer now a bald whisper. Talk
turns to the merging of seasons, how
little notice they get to shed
summer clothes and how, when it comes,
everything is rushed, bright wardrobe
stuffed hurriedly into drawers,
stark suit of winter a rather chastening fit.
Oh, for the days when they could gambol
in the loose threads of spring and
one change of costume would see out
Hallowe’en. They could divest
to the teasing of polite autumn winds,
light freckles of November rain
and the warm coaxing of Christmas lights.
No more. Now the dress code changes
daily, balmy days foreshadow snow
and storms arrive in alphabetical order,
as the trees, shoulder-surfing at frosted windows,
watch their demise on the late evening news.
Please note submissions for our Poem of the Week segment is currently closed — a new call for submissions will be issued in April. We are currently accepting submissions to our regular features: MONOGRAPH (a group of poems by a single author) and New Voices (poets aged 18-30 who have yet to publish a full collection).
Please read the full requirements on our Submissions page, before sending your work.
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