The Night-Lights

The sun pours the moon
Half full of glow and goes –
Bundles away the blue

Robe of day to stealthily slink
Off on lavender slippers,
The moon gathers black

Blankets to warm his vigil
Waning white face watching –
One eye in the covers – as into

The inky bedclothes of the sky
– swirling twinkling sequin dust-
Dip pens to write our dreams.


Into September

Rain fine like dust sinks from sky to grass – more like a light flicker against the green hedge than something fully seen. Has it stopped yet? No, the view of the pines is screened through misty sprinkling sparkle.

The sky is winter-white and winter-cold, while the grass is summer and the leaves barely autumn. All seasons crowd in, ill at ease in each other’s company.

The flowers seem troubled, lonely for the blue above. Putting on a brave, bright face, they’re pretending the white portent will not soon disfigure them with hands of frost. They still hold a tenuous claim over these first days of September – by right this time is summer’s.

But the cold drops carry down the chill of sullen sky to kiss the brilliant petals in their beds, the cheerful blades in their vast throngs upon the lawn. Soft as feathers, they trickle down flower necks and rest on grass-blade heads, lulling summer to sleep.


My heart feels like autumn
Leaves letting go of branches
Burning brightness dimming
Into days colder, shorter, older.

My heart feels like autumn
The brilliance of the falling
Beautiful fading of green life
Into golden, grey, snow white.

My heart feels like autumn
A weary wind’s persistent singing
Joyful still in the soft shaking
Into loss, hope, renewal.