I stand and feel the warmth of the Sun
In one of those fleeting moments
As the grey clouds of November tease
Parting here and there unpredictably.
There are birds feeling displaced here,
For a week ago their Mullberry perching
Was relectantly euthanised.
Its loss is celebrated in sunlit places
Previously shaded, and in gained spaces
That look and feel suddenly quite bare.
This garden is sometimes ultra silent
But today you can just hear distant aircraft
And the occasional car on our quiet road -
Something to do with cloud-cover they say.
The noise only makes me give rise to thoughts
Of where people are travelling to today:
Perhaps to far off sunlit sandy beaches
Or to brighten Nans's unused teapot.
For me there is the sense of closing,
Of trees shedding all their leaves,
Bright red berries borne by shrubs,
And there's a lone Rock Rose flower
Pink and bright but completely out of sync
With season, reason, and its ticking clock.
It is the pink hope in Winter's moody blues.

© Griffonner 2025