…That Thing with Wings

Autumn breathes on my face
from afar — so fresh! — stirring
every unique nerve ending to
sudden, electric life.

As if my mother’s cool hand
rested gently on my arm,
I’m startled awake.

And out from the ashes of languid,
summer days, my heart rises
up and up, spiralling higher, higher,
and higher still, feathered and beating in
deep reds and flashing golds,

inexplicably
Singing.

c. Kate Gough, 17.50 12 Sept 2019

 

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