Now west winds herald hues of emerald, time
Weaves warmer hours unwinding brighter threads
Of colour from the spools of darkness till,
Upon the perfect brink of equinox,
A new earth balances the past, with time to come.
The arc bridging two twilights broadens now,
Adjusted clocks chime notes to barter time
For light, drunk on rumours of days to come
That endless seem to children, while passing
Far too fast for those who know the way.
Liquid multiplies and emigrates to
Surfaces in plants and trees. Not long since
The sun has barely climbed day’s ladder, now,
In growing confidence, each step ascends,
Boldly, lengthening light’s span. The rhythms
Of the forests and the rivers grow.
Shards of amber beams slant taller through the
Narrowing interstices of trees. In
Dark depths earth splinters as the roots begin
To breath. Imperceptibly, each day, the
Shadows shorten, branches budding by bright
Bidding open green eyes - even urban
Precincts whisper promises of balmy
Days. The celebrating hills and valleys
Praise. The source of inflorescence flows, breaks
Brittle silence, tendrils quiver, roots drive deeper.
Arabesques unfold vivacious foliation
So foreshadowing, the summer shows to come.
In summer sometimes come Siroccos, when
Apollo’s all aflame. In northern skies
Rides Scorpius, and inflorescence drinks
The warm intemperate breath, attending days’
Widening. In the deepening postnoon
Dance bees in hives humming, later the moon,
Full of itself, guards scuffed-knuckle rose flesh
of skies as swallows reel, and all living
Creatures in night’s caresses lie among
Verdant lanes and lakes, till, in delight, light
Pours moulton ore, forges that gaze, watching
The axis of the tilting world incline.
Corinthian complexities preside,
Surmount columns ablaze with solstice pride.
From vaulting vertices, bright bugles fire
Their primary tones. Effusive rococo
Rises, breaks, supplants May’s baroque brushes,
Greets, modulates, the all too brief, long days.
On shoulders of the moorlands heather leans,
Displays her purple heart, on purple sleeves.
Now easterlies bare light of mornings cold,
Melancholy cadences decay to shadows.
The world is polychrome - burning. Time
Bequeaths senescence, register of waning days.
Alighting on a barren branch, a blackbird sings
To church bells, calls the harvest in and city lights
Annoint, the quickening, gathering gloom
As swallows etch their paths upon a moon, magnanimous.
The mists wreath swollen vines in reverance
Of profound fecundity. Literate stems conduct
Dimming voices of drowned light.
A girl, windswept, weeps gold and amber jewels;
Opalescent eyes shining in mirror leaves.
Migrants wheel against an arching sun to
Trace their sentient scripts on canvases
Of luminous clouds and seas whose gothic grammar
Fortells the fearful immanence of transcendence.
Inscrutable scribes trace manuscripts.
Starfish shoal brightly into nets of gloom.
Persephone presides over grain and
Pomegranites, whirling gales curve waves,
As curling clouds subsume a bloodless sun.
Peering past drifting drapes, she oversees
The supremacy, of secondary hues.
The midnight of the year looks north from where
White geese and swans appear, lakes, furrows freeze
And wilderness proclaims the reign of dormancy.
While inside fires stir stories and their tellers
Fanning embers to realities from
Memories and imagination, cooking
Vital nourishment for fortifying souls,
Implacable black, immemorial
Seas roar outside. Columns of mercury
Collapse, all life retracts, all things withdraw
Reduced to kernels in themselves.
Amorphous skies, portentous, gather grey.
On clear nights loud stars beat their drums of light.
Silent under white cloaks of snow and frost the
Iced earth’s gaunt embrace holds living creatures
In their lairs immured and barely breathing
Beneath the frozen furrows’ arabesques.
Salted meats, fermented fruit, potted purple
Jams sticky and sweet as kisses, wait.
In the cellar: crocks and glass jars stacked
For festivals’ and celebrations’ sake.
The nadir of the cycle curates
The sculptor’s work of alabaster, white
Veined marble, like facades of Italy.
Dry yellow leaves crack under footfalls, birds
Abandon trees and time slows to arctic
Glacial pace. Janus-faced, the year’s dawn’s poised
Between remembered scenes and dreams foreseen,
And fears. Grey eyes mourn colours in pale tears.