‘The apple tree throws down its dead and we kneel, fools for its blackened, overripe flesh.’
The maple leaf stops them. Its veiny palm invites examination, as peach and pale green cross shades. Autumn does this to maple leaves; scorns their attempts to cling onto their tree of birth, strikes them down, flattens their flame. And then, somebody finds the leaf, finds charm in its crown-like edges, its slight resemblance to thorns.
the sand stepping-stones
of a shuffling huddle,
or shifting land –
a clinking crowd at ground.
A shot of sea
spills its gut,
Inspiration is a funny thing. It doesn’t always come from beauty or thrills. It can strike from a place where the sky is grey, the rain is continuous and the wind chills everything.
I’m feeling extra sunny today, having been awarded the Sunshine Award for Blogging by fellow writer: AK Andrew. Big thanks to AK, who writes poetry and fiction and is the author of the novel: Radio Echo. Find out more here.
You know your life has changed when you sit down of a Sunday Evening to watch Antiques Roadshow with your in-laws. Gone, are the days when you used to bemoan the fact that Antiques Roadshow even existed.