For an Old Sunday Painter
Sun through morning haze fires
One maple leaf rouge in a web
Dangling at a clapboard corner.
Apple-scent chills the astered air;
Across the old meadow cold gurgle
Of river water under black alders.
Downtown slowly the sound rounds
From church bells dim with distance,
Uninsistent as that leaf caught here.
Slowly too the day promises clear.
Structure
10 lines · 1 stanza