not as simple as that
I could tell it was Autumn coming inof course it was not just the leaves
that presented gold red brown or rusty
challenges to a brusher-upper like me
nor was it the nip in the air every time
the high-flying clouds scooting from the
West blocked the still warming sun and sent
an idle chill down the spine and made the
cat dive for her basket in the kitchen
no it was not as simple as that it was the
onset of memories of the summer now passed
not the passing of the beaches and the mountain
streams sparkling in the most adolescent and
flambuoyant manner nor the crane and the wild
geese now it seems gone long gone far gone to
places you and I can only imagine it was the wren
the smallest of my visitors but most blessed of
guests who would tease me with his huge cry above
my head in the deep dark elder tree or sitting
on the fence almost jealous of the cat pouring
rebukes down upon our heads for not taking due notice
of his tiny size and monster voice yes yes I shall miss
him so and as I tidy up the leaves and prune the bushes
down for new life to grow next year please God I can
hear him creaking in my ear as the sun goes down to bless
another place and I squeek squeek the old bolt across
the rickety shed door the cat is already in her basket
and I set by the turf set fire waiting for a new dawn
and a mild day that will come for my tiny friend who
will announce his arrival with a phantom screek that
yes will send the cat scurrying and me smiling for the Spring
Poetry by Peter Humphreys
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Written on 2009-10-05 at 17:32
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by Peter Humphreys Latest textslifethe grey green sea emboldened beyond beyond we knelt |
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