cold wet overflow from the clouds

hunches shoulders into turned-up collars

and sends feet scurrying to shelter

becomes a diamond

all the world in its crystalline perfection

caught in the curled petal of a rose.

Autumn arrives

Autumn arrives
not in a flurry of fallen leaves
the colour of summer’s dying fire,
or in a blast of wind,
bowling water-swollen clouds
and dragging sheets of cold rain.
Autumn arrives
in the mellowing of the air,
the tawny sun that rises,
lingers never long enough
in a misty sky no longer vibrant blue.
Trees still shake green leaves in the breeze,
sun still dries the dew and pours,
into cupped flower faces.
But the evening moon is cold and bright,
and stars glitter in the frozen wastes of space,
Autumn arrives,
we feel it in our hearts and gather the last rays,
like ripe fruit
to store the memory of careless days
as the earth tips slowly into the night,
and the year slips,
through our helpless fingers.

A dismal autumn poem

I woke up today with a crashing migraine. Dosed up on drugs and went back to bed. When I got up this afternoon the rain was lashing down. I felt inspired.

Among the poplars

Among the poplars by the river
I sit and watch the tumbling water
Autumn swollen, brown and troubled.
I listen to the hiss of rain among the trembling leaves
And the leaden plop as sullen drops pit the water’s skin.
Memories brim over, pouring thick as bitter rain
And the steely sky a cracked mirror mocks.
Should every drop from every rain-filled cloud,
Every leaden drop, leaf-dripped and river-borne
Carry, tear-salty, a grain of pain
The ocean would groan and toss and beat upon the cliffs
The waves break in anger, splashing screaming gulls
But my heart would be no lighter, where I sit and think of you
Among the poplars, in the rain.