Leaves crispbrown,  dust: north wind blastssummer corners. You recedelike the tide, heart tick tocks. Sleep curlsinto autumn, rhythm: lavender, rose-hip,blackberry stain, winter crumbleshuttered houses. The past tremblesimages tumble towards half sleep. ‘’So much lifein the girl! Who’d have thought it?''*  *[MacBeth parody. Act 5 Sc 1.]