Autumn leaf
I am the first leaf
That Autumn sends
Tumbling into the water
To twist and turn
As the current catches
And bears me downstream.
I am curled in on myself,
Dried by the long summer’s sun
To golden brown fragility,
A coracle to hold my soul
As I am swept away unheeded.
How long I may travel
I shall not know
Until I begin to sink:
The Source and the Sea,
They are still certain,
But the journey,
As you know, is not.
I know it isn’t autumn; it’s barely spring in the UK, but I thought this poem illustrates a bit what I have been saying in earlier posts.
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Hi Viv,
Have you come up with a book of your poems.
They are so refreshing and beautiful like this one.
Cheers!
I’d love to say yes, Shweta, but not yet. I have written about a hundred in the last five years, i guess, and some have appeared in various publications round the world.
There’s no interest commercially in poetry, and while i am considering doing a volume via someone like lulu or similar, I don’t have a lot of money, and for every pound, there’s at least two homes. My job is intermittent and I don’t get a salary, so I’d have to be quite certain of what I was doing to risk what spare I might earn this season.
I will let people know if and when I do sort out a book, though.
Thank you so much for your kind support!
Lovely, just lovely.
Why, thank you very kindly!!