Never Too Late

Never Too Late

So I go  out: my little sweet is done: I have drawn heat from this contagious sun: To not ungentle death now forth I run….   Now I am minded to take pipe in hand And yield a song to the decaying year…   So late the hoar green chestnut breaks a bud, And...
Autumnal

Autumnal

Mars burns bright and close this October: I watch it through the window, as I lie, too-awake, in the dark. Drawn-in under covers as the cold bites, I shrink, foetal-shaped but old-fleshed, frail.   I am autumnal: dry-leaved, mud-under-foot, dark-dayed,...
The Pain of Falling Leaves

The Pain of Falling Leaves

And if, as autumn deepens and darkens I feel the pain of falling leaves, and stems that break in storms and trouble and dissolution and distress and then the softness of deep shadows folding, folding around my soul and spirit, around my lips so sweet, like a swoon, or...