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Earthy scented mornings
Thinly trailing mist
Acorns drop from weary trees
Yellow, red and russet frees
Leaves from branches, gently falling
Earth by coloured carpet kissed
Frosty, starlit evening
Palely shining moon
Departing from and returning to a small country station in Autumn provided the stimulus for this poem.
And still, in dreams
No words emerge
The struggle to articulate
Producing gasps,
Half uttered sounds
The strained attempt to break the grasp
Of strangleholds so long imposed
By those for whom
My presence, like my words
Held no validity
Dissolving into anonymity
An echo of an undiscovered
Self, a dormant cry for help
Golden flash on wing in flight
Fleeting vision, yet so bright
Soaring high, called from above
Beauty is your gift of love
Liquid calling, tumbling down
Bobbing heads, with red on crown
Guileless Charm of birds, behold!
Caps of red and wings of gold.
This poem is a homage to four generations of goldfinch who frequent my garden on a daily basis
She lives in shade
Where muffled sounds of laughter from the sunlit place
Can't reach, and colours fade
To grey in this so silent space
Which, all alone, she yearns to leave
But still unseen, she leaves no trace
The shadow child, without a face
The nameless one

— The End —