September ’09

Finally! We got some sort of Summer, albeit an Indian one. Still, better late than never, and why, exactly do we expect a good Summer any more – or ever?! Anyway, here’s one I wrote during those hot, sultry evenings when we thought it’d never end…

Indian Summer day

High in the wide blue,
ordered chaos of swallows
practice Winter moves.

Hawkish harrier
ignores harrying mobsters,
sweeps sunwise circles.

Honey-tongued thrushes,
from leafy, cool, concealment,
sing their repetoire:

after months of wind,
exulting in song-hearing
and in being heard.

Pink anemones
dance with different partners:
this day is for bees.

A peeling, blue chair
still, in unfamiliar heat,
dozing old-timer.

Limp euphorbia,
down by steaming compost-heap,
seed-pods heat-splitting.

Perhaps, for swallows,
today, thoughts of migration
seem not so urgent!




Blizzard of dancers,
light, bright ballerina-shoals
surfing the hedges.



Daddy long-legs

Cranefly skittering
’round the room’s periphery,
confused by the light.