I Need Your Autumn

Scatter your petals.
Wither down, uproot.
Become something hollow
for my breath to play.
An empty cruet
full of moonbeams.
The golden bellows
of a gourd.
Let the season subtract you.
What is Not
makes a dragonfly wing
more useful.
So frail it holds 
all my starlight.
I need your Autumn
for my Spring.
Stop trying to write 
your name on water.
Just be the water.

I wrote this poem for a Sunday morning just now 
upon seeing this wonderful painting by my dear 
old friend, Ellie Fishwick McLean.