- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Embers
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Click hereEquinoctial winds fill September’s sails:
she creaks, complains, strains
ropes that must be loosed, and slips
inevitably away.
We run along the foreshore desperate to
keep her in sight, but the
horizon demands her and
suddenly she’s gone,
just as the first ember sail of Autumn
pierces the dusk. Her berth is ready,
roofs repaired, windows fastened:
for fleet following her are
the Black Ships of Winter,
one by one.
- COMMENTS
corndog_over 13 years agoA nice alternative to the usual views of autumn. Consider your line-breaks-- they aren't pulling their weight in an otherwise excellent poem.
Esperanza_Hidalgoover 13 years agoonce again, tied to the seasons and wind. A very smart little poem.
buttersover 13 years agothe epitome of change, the essence of autumn.
lovely contrast between the warmth of 'the first ember of autumn' and the hard bleakness of the encroaching winter
works as a lovely metaphor, too, F!
