gnawing Orionids...

gnawing Orionids 

orchids remind me 
of Spring and Summer
with their deep 
quickening to a slowing 
stilled wield of pursuit 
edge perfection 
with bountiful 
pace, plenty ripe...

my socks cling to this thought
to the odd warmth of late October
I should have some shoes on
but there is a need I heed 
to this crept wet raw trembling cold 
spilling over the grass 
covered in fallen leaves 
no this folly of soaked feet 
has become too important to this poem 
something to tuck into another hurried dream 
before the Dawn comes and seeks her price...

which is leaving 
your soul's footprints
in a fading light 
when your time has come 
for the fires to be lit 
and wassailing of course 
is how you must go 
the spread banquet 
of free and easy 
awaiting each, willing 
lord and lady of misrule...

everything you sow with
angular perspective 
is just the same 
single cell aware
every seed is only 
the recognized desperate 
aggregate massed
parts of life 
we designate as
our wrapped hopes 
in lilting to frenetic 
diaspora womb 
curls into Winter 
we harden ourselves 
self-centered for awhile 
in the tides...

the northerlies 
have begun to arrive 
and they are hungry moths 
they fly by scent 
in the tourniquets 
humans make do with
like they knew to give
into rituals, they 
sweep-tend hearths 
their windows bend  
weeping with them  
they/we tighten circles  
moving towards 
lengthening shadows 
and the reborn silhouetted 
bone armed flickers
of these almost 
bare, waiting 
to be sentinel, trees...

EJR ©