October Feast



An ugly swan is pecking at a duckling ' beauty.
Dying reeds are reading drying leaves to sleep on duty.
The moon is leaving while the stars are slipping mute.
It's time for a tribute. Tonight.
The lonely only lute is still awake
accompanied by frogs in steamy fogs
encompassing the hissing lake.
The stake?
It's over there in the waters
and the first of their chosen daughters
is tightly tied to it.
The tide to do it.
The flowing one.
Who's won? Whose one?

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...