In autumn she kneels in adoration,
The rumpled leaves beneath her feet,
All red and crippled,
From months spent victim of the Sun.
On her way to work in these cooler months,
She feels her fabric reflecting beauty,
Usually this untidy woman has thoughts,
That could curdle any day’s hidden fruit.
But now her dancing bow-legs,
Bounce and catch every rhythm,
At each metro stop her hips are swaying,
To the steady beat of a life unknown.
And when she dances,
The colours run vivid,
Swallows chirp from the trees with surprise,
She rinses out her heart and splashes,
Into every corner she can find.