Autumn 2018

Autumn is upon us.  The leaves kaleidoscope with colour.

Having soared green all summer they finally Icarus.

Beside them the evergreens steady eddy.

The sun retreats, repulsed another year  by fat bodies  disrobed on beaches

And I am here, presuming to face another Canadian winter, 

The 40 days and 40 nights of rain have begun in Vancouver

Racist weather in it’s unforgiving whiteness begins to Viking from the north and attack the prairies

The east is deeply evil with Ottawa and Montreal and Toronto gripped by cement and madness.

Gossiping silly southerners continue to sully fake news with sex, sex and more sex

Doing it, not doing it, accused of doing it ,did it, watched it , with who, when

A choir of chimpanzees not yet out of the trees, what passes for advanced journalism

Perverts and dirty minded little lawyers with nothing else on their hands and minds but genitalia

Spaceships continue to pass and send messages back home galaxies away,

‘There is still no intelligent life form on the earth.’

The emotional stench of billions of aborted babies keeps the angels  catching falling angels

Occasionally a rainbow. A leprechaun in a Ponzi scheme cackles with a genie over 649.

 A drought, a flood, all blamed by aetheists on the breath of life

All the while denying higher things. Repent, repent, the street preacher cries out 

Recording a selfie of his own performance while we all learn to read  finally 

But only to text political obscenities and tribal grunts and sext

These are the silly days. Like all others.  The fall of summer, autumn and the cycle continues.

Récurrent like the beating heart, the tides of love.your face in my mind.

Beyond the deluge is the death of a saviour and his crucifixion follows just before spring

The cycle repeats itself. The life of one man, a species, a planet.  Lift up your hearts!

This too will pass but right now, this moment, this day, autumn plays.

Look up from your screen, feel the rain and wind.

Pay attention. Falling leaves and falling rain. Personal metaphors. 

Tomorrow snow men, making angels, then  we’ll all  congratulating our selves,

The sound of trumpets, sight of lilies and ladies in weird hats.

Death, rebirth, eternal life.  Conscious, unconscious. Dreams and wakes. Welcome weather.

I will not burden you with unseemly names but celebrate your progress as my own.  

Who ever would have thought we’d survive the heat and flies.

But we did. And will. Again and again. Like weather. 

Brave. Disciplined. Dutiful. Majestic. Humble.