The third day of rain (a poem)

Giving in to the autumnal cast of the last few days…

It’s the third day of rain today…

Summer is returning us gently
back to the cradle of autumn
with its crackling bed of bronzed leaves

and its promises of warm fireplaces
and soft blankets

a hint of melancholy in the air
vaguely reminiscent of 1989

I resist the call of nostalgia’s sirens
letting this palette of green and grey
turn me inward
that I may find all I need
for the journey
toward truth, slowly revealed

Here at the dawn of the ninth month
this space beneath the trees
provides shelter and reflection
a place for offerings
a home for silence
a bed for sleep

The lonely season is not far off now
evening comes down earlier

bringing with it enough of a breeze
to accompany the tears
of a walk in the rain

on a September afternoon

It’s a scene perfect for black-and-white
set to warm guitars and double bass
playing quiet jazz in a minor key

The solitary figure sighs
lights a cigarette
and bows his head

(31 August/1 September 2015)