A medieval applause
at the stone table—
the wine in casks,
the emerald queen,
her babe in arms,
her knight
still worthy of his cause;
a sword drawn
to slay her
at first sight of October …

Autumn leaves
fell to the ground,
swaying the populace once;
her veil of white,
the deathly cliffs of Dover
over the
fragrant swirl of a
midsummer’s night:
it was once said
that wedding cake
under a young girl’s pillow
would give her dreams of the
man she would marry.

​

Emily Isaacson