SEPTEMBER’S WHEN

the poets grow

old

alter colour

and fall

 

thou mayest in me

 

Years

have I died my

grey

 

Please – re-

serve your sympathy for thieves

of beauty, whose

stealings stole backs

and plug stomachs

 

the green-

grocers, folders

of wheat

the clean cutters

of sheep

 

A minute

fills

with shovels

whales

of these

brittling thieves

 

Keep harvesting

 

                                                   

First published in Barnwood

 

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “SEPTEMBER’S WHEN

  1. I like this alot Rolli, I’m glad it didn’t slip by my radar. So much so that I think I will buy Plum Stuff, I’m sure it will be inspirational, just like your stories!

    1. Thank-you so much, D! I really hope you like Plum Stuff. This poem will be in my next book, Mavor’s Bones, due late this year.

Comments are closed.