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.