On August XIII

What beauty there is in this light

Sun now warm on the back, face, bared limbs

Yet longer shadows stretch out, reach into the sultry corners

Strong, solid darkness with steel-sharp edges

From squinting low brightness to peering black

Shapes seen, perspective unclear until too close

Branch tip, bramble sharp, thorn lance

I must guard my eyes in light and shade

Move gingerly amongst fallen fruit

On the floor amongst the glinting sapphire of bluebottles

Wasps move less fast, drunk on the juicy rotten flesh

These colours gold and black of autumn’s softening days

Will return reversed in winter’s phase

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CLP 23/08/2019

Published by

Christopher Perry

Liberté, Equalité, Humanité