Leaves crisp
brown, dust:
north wind blasts
summer corners.
You recede
like the tide,
heart tick tocks.
Sleep curls
into autumn,
rhythm:
lavender, rose-hip,
blackberry stain,
winter crumble
shuttered houses.
The past trembles
images tumble towards
half sleep.
‘’So much life
in the girl!
Who’d have thought it?”*
*[MacBeth parody. Act 5 Sc 1.]
Victoria Mosley 