© Marie Marshall.
Strong today really liking the images of the boy playing in daylight with a stick
Someone to whom time means nothing wouldn’t notice the summer was over until he had to put on a jerkin.
I love the muddying of daylight too. Great image.
In Scotland at this time of year there is indeed a liquid quality to the light.
oh–and I could see it, too–loved the playfulness in it, too.
Love that line ” the slow-fuse to winter”..just brilliant.
That’s how it strikes me. I’m still outdoors in a t-shirt, but it gets dark earlier and earlier each evening and there are berries in the hedgerow. It’s definitely not summer any more, more like its dregs staining the glass.
you always use images that i can not only see but feel…the slow-fuse to winter, salt-warmth and my fav in this the immortal boy, muddying the pool of daylight..love it
To my mind it’s what poetry’s all about, Claudia – it has to do more than just say something. Thank you.
This poem engages all the senses…to see and smell the leaves caught in that slow fuse, to taste and feel the transition in the rich air, to hear the slight breezes turn sharp and clear. I love autumn, and personally cannot wait for it to arrive.
I wouldn’t mind it so much if winter was a little shorter!
I love the imagery in this one.
the slow fuse to winter, the boy stirring light with a stick. Perhaps you’ll have a short fuse to spring, I don’t mean wear the red wig either.
I told you never to mention the red wig!
You left it in that old circus trunk of flamboyancies.
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