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,...
Feeling the Cold?

Feeling the Cold?

I found Him not in world or sun, Or in eagle’s wing, or insect’s eye; Nor through the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun:…   A warmth within the breast would melt The freezing reason’s coldest part, And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up...