Skirts Fall

by Katie Chicquette

Their skirts have been raised high
all summer long, striking a sensuous pose,

like the famous still frame of the white dress steam-fluttered above the grate, forever floating up

but now, the row of strutting, dancing hostas are spent; their skirts fall, the sturdy green

taffeta of their leaves softens into folds of graceful golden silk sweeping the papery leaves. Sighing, they are ready

to rest, to pull up a snowy blanket,
to put away their best dress until March

melts into song again, and they peek out
from their April dressing rooms in May Day finery,

ready to summer fling
their green gowns skyward once again.