Old Gerontius

left his drafty cave

one brisk October day

to gather gnats and mites

and other delights

for his favorite

woodland souffle.

While munching on

a frosty lichen

he spied gold petals

of light break off

the sun,

that swung madly

like a pendulum-

giving him a fright.

They fell all around him

in arcs and reams

and perianths.

So, he broke

into a merry dance,

in the grass

four fathoms deep.