The forest for the trees – for Daily Inkling

Not seeing…

“That’s dirty!” mum said,

yanking her arm

so that, obedient,
she dropped the leaf

redgoldamber
spilt on the grey tarmac

 

Matthew has set up a new enterprise at Daily Inkling – he’s creating a community around daily prompts (remember the Daily Post prompt?). I have completely ignored the brief, but I’m linking anyway. I’m such a rebel. 

 

Autumn mist II

We use round words to talk

about mist – it rolls, coils,

boils. This mist

is thin and still,

a silence. We talk about

mist

as if it is an animal –

it creeps and tiptoes,

pads on little paws –

but this mist is a place,

and we live in it.

 

I’m still exploring mist! For Kim at dVerse. I’m now wondering if I can amalgamate these poems??

Autumn for dVerse

Mist spills

From each long

Cleft valley. 

Mornings 

We are cocooned

Marooned,

Rise up from

This place

Where the land

Holds us

Gently into

Clarity, look

Across the cold

Burning world,

Mist spilling

From each long

Cleft valley,

Cold sun

Calling.

For Kim at DVerAutumnse – an Autumn prompt. Round about now.

Summer changes into Autumn – haibun for dVerse

We float here in these golden days between the seasons, like gossamer drifting across the garden. Summer is fading and drifting gently into autumn. Flowers blanch and burn; seed heads form, altering the architecture of the borders between lane and field; leaves change their pigment- from greens that have dulled over August, to golds and oranges and pinks, a mellow patchwork stitched from flame and fire. Some mornings, we wake to find mist floating milk white, between us and the other side of the valley – as if we are alone, cut off from the clashing noises and colours of the world. There are berries everywhere – bright crimsons and purples singing from the hedges, calling us and the birds. There are apples – acid green, russet, shockingly yellow, dull red – to be held and examined. We store up treasures before the winter – sloes turning gin into liquid ruby; jams and jellies, jewels piled into jars; golden heaps of apples. We wait for the world to turn beneath us, carrying us into winter.
Sunlight diffracted
By mist, drifts through autumn leaves
Gold echoing gold.

Toni has opened up the bar at dVerse and has asked us to write about change. At the moment it feels like we are in the borderland between summer and autumn – so much change happening all around me. I love this time of year. 

Summer’s slipped by – circle poem for Jane Dougherty

Summer’s slipped by:
I felt a chill this morning,
Warning of coming frost,
Lost last night’s light early.

Pearly mist’s lifting here,
We’re picking the apples –
Dappled with light and shade –
Weighed, each in the hand, with care.

There in the bottom ground
Round the old tree
We gather, wondering how,
Now there is cold beneath
Heat of the sun at noon,
Tune that the wasps hum –
Summer’s slipped by.

Wednesday wouldn’t be Wednesday without a challenge from Jane. This is a circle poem – check her site out for details of the rules of the form. It was trickier than I expected. 

Leaves – quadrille for Dverse

She leaves notes, scattered,
Haphazard, or tucked
In unexpected places.
She counts the swallows
Gathering on the wires,
Numbers the sloes turning
Midnight in the hedgerows,
Doodles webs in the
World’s margins. And each note
In her fading hand says, simply,
“Autumn is coming”.

 

 

This is a quadrille for Dee at Dverse. The magic word is “leaves”.