Sun, moon, calendar
declare summer’s end.
But our fuchsia
crepe myrtle refuses to succumb
to these decrees.
Her lush tiny blossom
still rise up from green leaves
punctuate blue skies.
Heat will likely persist
until November
bolstering myrtle’s
claim that summer is not over.
Yesterday morning, however,
I ventured out
to pull a weed or two
and noticed, in the depths
of myrtle’s lower branches,
one of her green leaves
had surrendered, its green
now autumnal yellow-red.
Still, her other parts resist
I dare not laugh
at myrtle’s efforts to
stave off autumn’s
inevitability since I often
stand before my mirror
with various creams,
attempting to delay
my own autumnal changes.
My Crepe Myrtle Resists Autumn
Joan Leotta plays with words on page and stage. Her poems, articles, essays, and short stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Ekphrastic Review, ovunquesiamo.com, Pine Song, When Women Write, Verse Visual, Verse Virtual, Red Wolf Journal, and anti-heroin chic among others. She is a four-time winner in the NC Poetry in Plain Sight contests, and has won several other awards and contests in poetry, short stories and essays. Her chapbook, Languid Lusciousness with Lemon, out from Finishing Line Press. As a performer, she tells personal and folk tales of food, family, and strong women. Joan can be reached on her Facebook page, Joan Leotta or her author page, Joan Leotta Story Performer and Author. Twitter: @joanleottawrite