Noon sun shines low, diffuse through cloud;
a white crevasse of light
gathers itself again into a blinding ball
gilding soaked surfaces, gifting
a mirrored virulence to damp roads.
That breeze, which gently animates the hedge
has sheepishly returned
and so I sit as ever did with cup
upon a child's cagoule upon a chair
to bring you this - you who never flee
the nets of words I cast upon this scene
(as grieving siren traumatises by).
The solstice now is but one day away;
yet here at autumn's end
I still pretend
to summer's Fisher-throne.
..
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Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
