Horse Chestnut

Eamon Grennan
The leaves are falling from the chestnut tree.
Last week they glowed and flamed with Autumn fire; Now that the underlying bones are visible,
The ripe fruit falls, is hidden in the grass.
Will my spiked husk split too, the leather core Soften in mould, the quick seed germinate, Unfurl pale infant hands,
Lift candelabra of praise?
Page 18, Poetry Ireland Review Issue 28