A lemon bird I made a fool of myself over

As if she were a green flash, a gold 

Medal, or a first date’s blue eyes — I love her

Less naturally now. It’s like she’s God

And I have to read my belief in her off

A page in the prayer book. 

For a summer to look at her was enough;

The crush of love was at my beck

And call. Fall, it’s not her beauty in decline 

Among the leaves. The problem is mine.