1 minute read
Days of Autumn David Cattanach
by DJBeaney
David Cattanach
Days of Autumn
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Autumn - leaves strewn form patterns of shape and colour. Light winds create a murmur Of falling colours, leaving branches bare. Chimneys smoke again and the sweeps roam.
On back door step are boots brushed clean once they were Laden with clay earth.
Ancient fires lance the villages, Potatoes removed flake their skins in the hardened hands of Blacksmiths, Carpenters and Journeymen.
An odour of camphor rises from the overcoats of priests who make their rounds under the glare of returning full moon.
Cordite fizzles in a crackered air kids tremble at the fire’s edge small hands grip the skirts of mothers sparks of energy fly into the night sky.
Over barbed fence in silent flight the barn owl ghost white goes, twisting its head to look at the opening of a door.
On gathering cool nights frosted breath marks a music score in the dark, deep In the woods foxes howl.
Comforted by murmurs and stories the people retreat to wait the light after living through many nights. The dull sounds of drums Breaks through the blinding fog.
