Damsons
in the last of the long golden evenings
we shake the tree,
raining purple
onto falling leaves.
we crouch collecting,
leave powdered white-sweet-mould
for dying-summer-butterflies,
leave stoned drinking holes
for drowsy wasps to souse.
cross-legged by piles
I finger
the slippery sweet,
pinch the pip
squeeze pulped,
bruised flesh
till it bursts,
splits… Read more
Autumn snuggling down
I used to hate the dark wintering months, wetting and chilling us as they shorten the days and steal the summer’s light. But now I notice a sense of relief. Relief that I can rest, be still, sit with the cat warming my legs as I dive between pages of my teetering reading pile.
Wood … Read more
Autumn
I don’t have many words this week…just images of autumn and fragments of thoughts.
I learnt to knit during half term and have made three scarves and am loving the feeling of the needles moving and the wool weaving.
I am learning to ride. I can transition from walk to trot to canter and back … Read more
Autumn Queen
Autumn is here and this year my son hasn’t written a poem about school sucking the school out of him and I haven’t written a poem about time being strangled as I have done before:
… Read moreNew Term
Time strangled,
Lies withering on the floors
Covered with the ocre leaves of August’s mourning,
Cramped, dark, confined,
I am autumn
I am 50.
I am autumn.
I am the jet streams trailing against the sky. I have traveled far and my journey is not yet done.
I am abundant. I am maturing and can provide sustenance for myself and others. I have all that I need.
I … Read more
