AUTUMN INTO WINTER

A Poem by Philip Quirke

Early autumn holds its breath:

then one long sigh

exhales a blaze of colour.

Crows befuddled

black and blue among

storm-tossed leaves.

Power cut: hiatus in our rushing.

We see the moon again,

and wonder at the stars.

Trees once full-leafed

now bare.  Even barer

when one leaf clings on.