The clocks went back at the weekend
And suddenly you are here again
In my kitchen, behind the blinds
A familiar heaviness arises
And it dawns on me that
The wheel has turned
So I invite you in
You take a seat by the fire
And over a warm cuppa
We talk in whispers
Of slowing down and decaying leaves
We ponder hedgehogs hibernating
Toads slumbering
Compost slowly transforming
Acorns patiently waiting
Dormancy, stillness, peace
I take you with me to bed
And we dream of winter walks
Under starry skies
We gaze at the bright light of the moon
With awe and wonder
We dream of feasts with ancestors
And laughter by candlelight
As the light returns the next day
And you depart
A certain fondness or wisdom
That comes with age
Arises
And I smile
By Orla Beaton 6/11/19
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