copters

Today I am posting a poem from the next booklet to be produced by bluewater books. This booklet is due out in the next couple of weeks.

copters


gardens of gardenia blooms
of second glances never sent
melancholic sycamore copters
spinning at my feet.


nose-caught scents of cow-slips
which recall beechams empty bankments
steam gone, are now held together
by the bankments of the sea-side place.


recollections make me age
make me youthful again and yet
awareness of years spinning faster
closer to ground the staleness of age.


second glances never as strong as the first
once seen is enough to myth
is too much to revisit and demystify
like tyntowyn now not canute's cave.


private symbols are not the language
of public words but the comparison
of fates leaves us spinning together
like copters on an autumn afternoon.