Vapor Egg

Fall fleets quit parades for ghosts grown
under socketless ache of blue vaulted ceiling.
Their war with the clouds was fruitless
and they had to retreat before the cold...

for napoleon advances always
like love evolving death
and the sparks of the bitter tumor-seed
proliferated to tie up the sky, or
whatever was left of it after it had killed
the green with cinders and smoke.

It rained then, and the leaves could be seen jiggling
a symphony out of what water remembered as they fell together.