Monday, 12 November 2012


Plentiful, a few leaves rattle overhead;
uncountable , brown collateral
-  mulch of a future generation

and, every second, a dry cornflake floats
or plummets onto muddy autumn ground;
to be soaked and eaten by water, worms and earth.

Whilst airborne, no longer fixed or allied
to a mother tree with her branch and fire; deep, deep roots,
but, re-formed, sways away from her great connection
(with soft-hard edges) into a new collective.

Heading for chemical, mineral, damned decay
in a spinning fall from old body to new body
at the turn of the season, heading inevitably into
a turn of the year.


  1. I loved this, so often I find seasonal poetry descending into sappy sentiment tired over worked you have to like because gosh dang it not likeing would be like kicking a kitten. this is fresh, you paint word pictures I haven't seen before and so perfectly capture that dark end of fall when the air turns raw and the leaf peepers have scurried home with their postcards.

  2. John,

    A very thematic poem, which is not only autumnal, but covers life itself.
    Found you via Twitter and adding your Blog.

    Eileen :)

  3. John,

    Your poetic painting of fall flows flawlessly. Thank you for sharing. I am looking forward to reading more of your art.

    Peace & Blessings,