I take you there, falsely cheerful
Inconsequentially chattering about
Golden poplars and reddening maples:
Colours
Of autumn
I leave you there, apprehensive
To the care of stethoscopes
And surgery while long wet weeks
Drown me
In time
I watch you there, inert, bed-stretched
Leasing your life to pumps and plastic
As slivers of sun insinuate:
Days dredged
From night
You are released, the landscape
Of your self scalpel-scarred
Excoriated weather signs
Marking
Your time
You come home through fallen leaves
Browned and damp, unseeing,
Uncomprehending, as swirling squalls
Sweep in
Our winter
© Janne D Graham
1990 (edited 2011)
The above poignant poem was given to me by Janne, a member of our U3A poetry appreciation group. There is plenty of space for the reader to construct their own image to the situation and develop further after reading the final stanza. The weather sign of a good poem that it promotes lingering after-thought in the mind of the reader.
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