The wind brings with her
cloud after cloud, each calling
in turn with a draught at the door
to sweetly kiss my cheek
and bid me peace on the breeze,
for theirs is but a fleeting visit,
full of vows
that this October will be different, darling.
The faint figure of a single starling,
black at a distance, seen closer
with a gloss of purples and greens,
fast in flight, impeded by mistrals
on its route to the roosting site
where a mass murmuration
warms its wings on winter nights.
I watch from my window,
not yet convinced by the change in weather.
Are you blue as the sky in sunlight
or blue as the depths of the ocean floor,
Are you red like the sky at night
or red like strips of blood on ice,
a baby seal clubbed to the head
so someone else can wear its colours,
Whose team would you support,
(loyal to the end),
and when we’re running colours
how do we make the ground white again?
will not cover the black soot
staining our souls
when you peel back your layers
and freeze to death
before you burn in Hell
for stealing Mother Nature’s colours.
Whispers of smoke in the breeze
flicker towards me
in Ayurvedic melody,
roots holding fast
whilst the hot tips of the finest branches
begin a slow waltz,
the rhythm their own,
their spirits in flames,
like a sprinkle of icing sugar
was all I needed
to make this day sweeter.