THE SEINE

Autumn this time on this river descends
With a last thrashing of summer crowds
Who brush the streets as they walk about,
harsh in the hush that Fall here tends

To hold.
         Each streetlamp bends
More than its usual duty allows
And pours its vial of light out
Upon the wound the water is, and mends.

So much now is far from me,
Here in this city of nightlife and monuments.
I take out the past like a splinter,

Then burn for its heat this small bit of incense,
Thinking, through the smoke and solace of memories:
"It is time to get ready for winter."

          copyright 1979, James B. Chevallier