Autumn comes faintly,
As though it were when sleep, dreams
And first memories of waking
Blur at the beginning of the day.

Charms of Summer
Slowly undone in undulations of Winter
And brief retreats to warmer heat-waves.

Reading on the Ides of March
And the days of May
Here in Australia
April may be the cruelest month
Breeding leaves and weaves of grey cloud
And leaving steps closer to Winter's shroud.

With saps of life
And wisps of nymph whispers
Surely siphoned with scythes of time,
I fear to waste one more of my mortal days
Peering through lifeless greys.