Wednesday, 20 October 2010


A leaf like a slowly closing hand
drops off

a great mother of a
tree - letting go

it lets go)

in a shutterdown
of winter’s paler light.

How wonderful like a butterfly
to flutter, tumble, still;

only caught by wind - not knowing
that the lattice bark has started on a spree

with sun and rain and waving snow,
of soundness and repair.

1 comment:

  1. Your poems are interesting and addictive; you remind me of Edward Carpenter - not his poetry but his worldview.