Thursday, September 22, 2011

Odour of Winter

Golden leaves rip through the stirring breeze,
The last flurry of Autumn.
Burnished veins, dried
wrinkle the roadside
crunching together
For warmth.

Nights nip,
snap at wrists and ankles,
prickling pallid flesh.

I cradle the pale sun
staving off
the darker days
of Winter.


  1. ouch a powerfully raw take on Autumn, poignant how you end with cradling the sun as you would a child to nuture it and give it life to fight the dreaded winter


    Rachel xx

  2. Hi Rach,
    I am not sure where it came from but as it started to come to mind, I wrote it down and it just flowed without prompting. I spent the day on three poems today, strange when you get a flood of them. I am not finished the other two, will sleep on them and see how they are tomorrow with a fresh mind. Xx