TRANSFORMATION

Seasons change overnight,

before you know it

the wind against your face so cold 

you turn back in the yard, 

the buffeting sky

impossibly blue.

Suddenly you’re old,

withered, utterly changed,

shuffling through a swirl of fallen leaves.

After the night’s storm

the cask of the heart, half empty,

sloshes at each step.

Yet wind thrills through the season,

tearing at the clouds,

the sky lofting higher, vaster,

always carrying something off,

the smallest chink in the rooftiles

filling with moans, voicing what was still,

urgent, blowing.

Few days left.

The dead leaves whirl,

in the distance

parched whispers of the trees,

the murmuring human surf, traffic

heading in one direction.

The wind’s weight

finds your bones,

in a single night

changing everything,

snatching up your heart.

Hold on tight.

It’s time to stand in the wind

or surrender.