Thursday, 5 September 2013

written in the dirt

this autumn morning
winter’s aperitif
is served on the rocks
shaken and stirring

come downpour now
unleash your jotting scribe and
cast the showery runes of fables untried
forge scripts along our droughty lanes
of songs for all that yet remain
or wash away those pages brown,
whelm witness to our temporal sway

we’ll listen to the eager earth
as she swallows every dripping word
of this crisp & chilled September cleansing,
for she has such a slumberous summer thirst

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