Thursday, 7 April 2016
autumn sequence (poem)
The wax-eyes are making their presence felt as they draw nearer and nearer to the house, the deeper into autumn this side of our planet travels.
Poem number 5 for NaPoWriMo ...
In the mornings, mist
on the inside windowpanes,
on the car's windscreen.
Look. Feasting blackbirds.
Dark-blood stains on the driveway
from all the squashed plums.
Three o'clock, school's out
and I bring in the washing
before it gets damp.
In this softer sun
I can stay out for longer
and without a hat.
A leaf falls.
Kay McKenzie Cooke
These days when I sit at my desk to write, my knees start to get cold. An autumn complaint. Thankfully, I have a warm shawl my daughter in law, Kate, gave me which I drape over my lap to keep my legs as warm as toast.
Today I will make pumpkin soup. Another sign of autumn. As is sweet corn.
The echium plant I can see outside the window is slowly giving up the ghost. I notice bees are still visiting, however. Sucking out the very last drop. As the days grow cooler the plant will turn dry and grey, but managing to remain a sculptured feature, spiky and interesting against the skyline. A prolific grower, smaller plants are already at its feet ready for their own glory days in two summer's time. Ah. Such is life; the paradoxical, wonderful, terrifying cycle of life.
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