Gilt – a poem

As I await the final gilding of the leaves
in the crown of the oak, life rises up around me,
warm, in shades of amber. Fury of peace
and stillness of motion together encircle a frail humanity.

The darkness that falls now is gentle,
like a friend’s touch, or morning tea,
and quells the darkness behind me.
There is no cause for fear.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s