Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
Autumn breeze, wanders purposeful
The autumn breeze, wanders purposeful.
Crispy waves both warmish and cold:
Crisscross the lawn, sometimes wrathful,
Other times gently consoled.
Like the lamb not quite ready to walk
Skittish, at times ever so daring...,
Leaping and rolling, like a windsock:
Out of control; or just, bleating.
Its then we see, the hurrying ladybirds
On the windowpane; trying, to get in.
It's then no-more we hear them lovebirds
Sing, evergreen in yew boughs akin.
As surely as winter steals the honey bee
Of her final sting, as surely as the mushroom
Packs-up his infamous, mildewed, fairy-
Ring, I'll endeavour to open the tomb,
Wherein; the rose-pink Nerines perfume.
Comments about this poem (Autumn breeze, wanders purposeful by Mark Heathcote )
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