adroit, adept, conker,
weary boeuf and stew.
The nights are closing in;
the mushrooms sprouting
      on their monopeds.

The pipes are closing in
with nights re-wakening with heating.


Here above, some words combined at the end of September last year as autumn brought in a change of light, of taste preferences, of colours and of temperature. Autumn brings in earlier darkness, fallings conkers, longed for comforting stews and a weariness at the thought of the long winter ahead. Sylvia Plath’s poem always comes to mind when the mushrooms make their seasonal appearance. I see the little fungi relishing the increased dampness in the soil and the dank of darker mornings in self-fuelling ways I simply envy.

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill 
Books:
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys and Shining in Brightness

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