‘Tis the season –  a poem by Carw

Surprised, yet again, by Autumnal torpor,
and, in wondering what to do,
as is our pain,
I settle to observing rain,
and the consequent habits of snails,
and the number of blackbirds that take  to my lawn,
with their wet and muddy probing beaks.

A manifesto at least
would offer some certainty,
but in the absence of whence,
stuff happens,

I think I will give up thinking,
and accede to cycles,
there is just conceit in complications.
When hungry, I’ll eat,

and then check the rain
for humility and common sense.

Or I could  carp at the stars in the night,
are you listening, stars…
well pay attention…
you send me to sleep, do you hear?
Well might you hide behind that cloud.

Or, having recovered from that,
I could shout the dawn down
for waking me up.

I will not be buying
full spectrum daylight
in prescriptive Watts,
or in likelihood less,
Googling Amazon for darkness in June.

It’s so much better
to deliquesce.

Carw   Dec  2020