Autumn Fall Out
A fragile kind of day. A last wring
of the damp tea towel of summer. The sky sighing
with relief like a mother after childbirth
as I walk across the park.
A tarpaulin over stacked chairs billows
in a brisk gust. The folded sunshades flap
like cormorant rag wings
as all through the park the trees are burning;
saffron gold, flaming scarlet and rich russet brown.
The multicoloured final curtain
is gracefully coming down, leaf
by sun gorged leaf, gradually making giant bare
scarecrows of the trees and deepening the fault
lines in my fingernails
and creases round my eyes.
I too am letting go as the Earth tilts.