Autumn dragged its heels.
Summer – a non-starter
this year. In the end,
reluctant to leave,
at long last, headed back
behind the ridge.
Piebald tree-trunks
drift in shadows
with the smoke
from a far-distant bonfire...
Granny Smiths sob
inconsolably,
in the orchard
where they fell...
paint bleeds...
from blinded eyes
of beach-huts,
and in the shallows,
boats of red, and green,
list, aimlessly,
amongst the reeds
in their peignoirs
of silken-silver mist.
A hammock – full
of wet-walnuts, hangs,
heavy-hearted,
and the martins
in the eaves are flown,
and I wait for the sheep
to leave their cloven,
pearly tracks
in the morning frost.
Today, I saw swans
tilt towards the south.
Time was, I would have
longed to go with them,
to the other side of winter,
but now, I’m content
to remain...follow old,
trodden boundaries.
This hill, this pond,
this field, inspire me
near November – speak
with a million tongues;
I hear them coaxing down
the ochre leaves
in whispered vespers
of evening rain.
Comments
skinner_jennifer | October 27, 2011 - 15:18
What can I say Tina? but a poem after my own heart.
I know what you mean about flying away with the swans, but not wanting to go now. There once was a
time when I was young that I could never stay in one
place very long, but now as I get older, I need more
stability, so I'm happy to remain where I am, infact
the house I live in now, is the longest place I've
ever lived.
So this was not only an enjoyable poem, but one I
could relate too.
Thankyou for sharing.
Jenny.
Beeme | October 27, 2011 - 16:04
This is so lovely Tina, I could picture all of the imagery vividly.
Beeme xx
Silver Spun Sand | October 27, 2011 - 16:16
Thanks so much for your lovely comment, Jenny, and I too could relate to your words.
I always loved moving around in my younger days, and got bored so quickly with where I lived. Not so these days, and where I am now, is the longest place I've ever lived too;-)
So pleased you enjoyed.
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | October 27, 2011 - 16:16
Thanks, so very much, Beeme. Glad it worked for you and I really appreciate your telling me;-)
Tina xx
Florian | October 27, 2011 - 19:47
Great, took me to the country. I love the Granny Smiths bit. It's odd how everything has an identity, a life of sorts, everything, a birth and dying, even an apple and you obviously know that.
Highhat | October 27, 2011 - 19:53
A nice picture you painted here Tina- well done. It's once again that time of year- to put the clocks back..
;)Pia
Silver Spun Sand | October 28, 2011 - 08:07
Thanks Florian for reading, and for your inspired thoughts. You are so right in what you say;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | October 28, 2011 - 08:08
Thanks, Pia;-) Yes, it is time put the clocks back, again...but at least there's an extra hour in bed, I suppose.
Pleased you enjoyed, and I hope you have a good weekend.
Tina;-)
hudsonmoon | October 28, 2011 - 13:55
I wish I could write imagery like that. I'm a little lacking in that department. But you're certainly not.
Ricn
Silver Spun Sand | October 28, 2011 - 17:58
You don't do at all badly, hudson, and I greatly admire the way you write, which just goes to show;-)
Many thanks for your kind comment. More than apreciated.
Tina
fatboy74 | October 28, 2011 - 23:44
Oh for a beaker full of the warm south...
A real thing of beauty Tina. :-)
Silver Spun Sand | October 29, 2011 - 08:11
I'll second that beaker thing, fb;-)
Pleased you liked, and I hope things are well with you.
Tina;-)
scratch | October 30, 2011 - 16:12
Good job Silver Spun Sand, I was transported and I loved the way you wove whistfulness into the penultimate stanza; the high point for me - lovely.
Scratch.
Silver Spun Sand | October 30, 2011 - 18:49
Thanks, Scratch;-)
Tina