A Letter to Summer

Farewell to summer. Go steady, now. Retreat. No more nuking of nature, no more bleaching the birds into hiding. 

Farewell to the campsite with pastel bunting and hay bales with its swish of retro deckchairs where the coast was an iron concertina.

Farewell to Modbury with its mosaic market-place feel, to the big of the sea, the big sea, the aged doll's house shop of thrift, to the candlemakers and tapers, farewell to the brazen cat rapping chaos into bare legs.

Farewell to Emperor's Clothes style systems, to the punitive, to inadequate schools. Goodbye to the wheel of power and control,  to bluesome days off sick, to nights of dilemmas, neverending mornings of not knowing.

Greetings to paper goldfish strewn pavements, to trees letting go. Hello to the witching season and mirror work, to salt and shadow hexes, greetings to widdershins amd moon phases, hello to the somersault of bad energies back. 

Greetings to woodland fey where the magic lies in the lure of the north winds, the absence of voices, the cracking of twigs. Good morning to pencil tips on best paper and to storytelling only permitted by mouth. 

Hello to blood oranges and fire glow faces, to plain brogues with skeleton print tights, say hello to boots that lace up long, woollen coats that french kiss the floor. 

Solemn greetings to twilight's marmalade hour, to rain-whipped window panes, to the bite when a foot leaves the duvet, to the male blackbird on the iced lawn, calling in winter's grace.