As it is almost Autumn Equinox, here are two short seasonal pieces that arose recently.
FLICKER
He cools the air, calling crow,
A rasp of drift, the crisping leaves.
All things desire to sink earthwards
Towards a fitting sleep.
The sky left more void, blue, vast,
Scraped clear – the circling cry of buzzards.
It gutters, flares and flickers:
The nub of summer.
We become atmospheric, vapourous.
We are tumbled down, crumbled to autumn.
Made old, aged again,
Circumscribed, hemmed in
By hours of darkness.
—–
RETURNING
Light pushed at day’s end,
A cold, blue edge.
All hearts, filling, emptying, filling.
The year grows small again,
Summer’s passion eases.
We can go home,
Look inside,
Light fires,
Dream dreams.
—–
simonhlilly 