Phil Vernon is our treasurer, and this poem was published in the Society’s Folio # 72 in 2018. It is included in his recent collection, Poetry After Auschwitz (Sentinel).
Overnight, the valley's turned.
Its trees and hedges, wearied by
the endless summer days, have spurned
their tender murmuring for dry-
as-paper rustling in reply
to breezes brushed with leaf more rare
than gold, beneath a cloudless sky -
a beauty he can hardly bear.
he sees leaves fade then fall; then bare
limbs silhouetted under rough
storm clouds; then spring - all he can know
is how their scent suffused the air,
the feel and soft sound as he scuffed
through dampened drifts, lifetimes ago.