Wednesday, August 6, 2014


Shrugging dusk, grappling with the heavy coat of night,
falling into darkness with a suddenness which makes
summer laugh and spring smile and autumn remember,
as day trims the cloth of light accordingly and surrenders
to the force which dictates when it will be born and when
it will die, or at least, sleep, in those lost, chilled moments
wrapped in the shawl of blackness which is now, once
more, being drawn slowly from the closet of time and
purpose, shaken out with the last drift of sunshine and
warmth, ruffled through slow mornings and snapping
evening, tousled by the cold, frosted hair of the season:
so does winter come again with icy, quiet words.


  1. You made me dread winter more.

    Thanks for stopping by with your kind compliment

  2. I like this very much and esp your last line.

  3. This may be my all-time favourite (and I have read quite a few of your poems, now). The physical-ness of the poem is palpable.