Landscape in the door

of the shanty, autumn leaves --


being blown around.

I'm sitting at the table, maybe
sleeping, I think for a second
at the blare of a siren
that takes along the smell
of puffed chestnuts from my nose
to an emergency

In the kitchen I see
the cat looking expectantly
and the clouds pass swiftly
past the drowsy sun
We're going to play soon
first I make coffee

High and low the boiling
water and the traffic rustle
my eyes shut, I feel
the cold under the arid air
of autumn, it will take long
before spring comes

Dark skies, whirring overlooking
  Illumination light, clear of clouds
Clutching, rising, bird flocks blooming
  Gathering in denuded trees in crowds

A year ago, here I sat watching these
  They came back, and now, leave again
Lifting, scattering, flocking in the breeze
  Gathering, as to fight without bloodstain

Heavens above full of dusty birds in flight
  Whirring, whirling from one shape to another
Nearing winters sun, breaks through bright
  How they flit and play, as if to some conductor

There, so very high above in murmurations
  Never lost from my sight as they dip and sway
Up, down, dancing with their leaving aspirations
  For times span, they’ve swayed dark skies grey