Standing Stones
Empty of sky,
the morning fields
are full with mud
and puddles
in the early dawn
and fallen grey,
clouds drift
along the horizons
edge,
not a bird stirs,
silence reigns
upon the kingdom,
the dulled eyes
of awakening,
the night fades
from dreams
of tomorrow,
to the first light
of today,
for summers’s gone
now, hidden
beyond the first flutter
of colours,
the turning golds
the flames,
and fires
of trees,
and there,
along the pathways,
through the woodland,
high in the mists
of shrouding,
the first of stars,
is the yellow birth
of light,
the morning,
rising sun,
the standing stones
of ancient times,
encircle the moments
of motion,
September written
in their shadows,
turning the tides
of seasons,
towards the winter days
to come.
Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
p1964km@googlemail.com
