The Year Turns
two short poems from a holiday
Old Paperbacks
They crumpled and curled in the heat
Withered in damp
While under their covers I found sand and sugar
And by the window, warped, rain-blurred
Looking out to the invisible sea
I heard other rains, older times.
The Year Turns
August becomes September
And I am cold, the year closes in
Over my head, I wait for long nights
For lighting candles, for open windows
For tea and souring apples
And you, hidden in the leaves,
Which fall one by one around your feet.
I loved 'Old Paperbacks', especially the two last lines. Thank you for sharing!
Walking my dogs today, I was surprised at how many maple leaves were down in the neighborhood--your poem filled me with longing and wonder.