Time for another 2-finger exercise for Time Flowers:

7

 
The silver underleaves of an autumn olive
muttered in Russian, or an unknown tongue;
their moonlit, glittery palaver sprung
from shady root (Armenian cave).

 
The moon was hidden in a cloud.  He watched
the dancing glossolalia fade, as when a season
spirals into frozen glass, and someone
skates across the leaves' graveyard - detached,

 
heedless.  Soon glass will melt
into the rippling stream (a metamorphosis
of mountain springs) and Everyman knows this:
those leaves will quiver in Orion's belt.