Autumn turns
and the September sky turns Sapphire
as it glimmers against the coming golden
harvest and the thoughts of nestling winter.
Halig remembers her time as a boy,
the January child who raged and stormed
at the loss of his mother and the only delight
to found was the springing of trees gracious furniture
as she danced with feline seduction
as the May Queen, now these leaves
and plants are dying
as she walks with severe majesty
in the crisp September morning
glory dew.
Still they stand,
wedged hard and rusting in the glow of
sunrise… sunset
and the tides that cover them in between,
these men of unblinking perspective
and who show their contempt
for Humanity by turning their back
ever away from the shore line
and the gaze of seagulls,
punished for their insane chattering
and their dogged resistance to change.
Though blind from birth, they see all
and in the whispered delusions that reach
their ears from screams of children
and the agony of parenthood,
That first day, I mean the very first proper day
when we had our first group session together
and you sat at the back of the room with what I
would have called the cool kids thirty years before,
leaving, stranding me beside the battered front desk
of a tutor who spoke too fast and in a language
that well as might have been based in Maths, Fortran or
Gobbledegook,
your blonde hair shone and shimmered as much as it did
for the following three years in which it was my honour