HAPPY NATIONAL POETRY DAY!
Enjoy your poetry whether you are reading it, writing it or performing it. Here's one of mine. Rather apt for the time of year.
These are the autumn days, shorter, yet more colourful than the sum total of spring and summer with their languid headiness of new love and hopeless romance. Love now runs deep, an earthiness beyond the ache of wanting. It is solid, freeing, wise with experience, yet not without its adventures!
My days come in flames of reds and orange when all my fruits are multiplied and come into season. Their juicy sweetness runs in my veins. I look back at those growing years. Am I wiser? I’m certainly older. So I grab the sunny days by the scruff, bathing in vibrant yellows, greens, browns and gold, and there is the scent guiding me home – wood smoke trailing to the sky. But I’m not ready yet.
I love the misty mornings, the mellow tones clouded in white. Then the sun bursts through and the trees are glory crowned. I waste no time; daylight hours are shorter, there’s a nip in the air. I walk through fallen leaves; gather shiny conkers, fir cones. The shedding will soon be over and I am not done yet. There will be dark, sunless days, cold winds through old bones, but I have no time for teary regrets. While there is colour in my days you’ll find me walking under the sun, the juice of autumn fruits staining my lips.