With Samhain comes the deep darkening gloom,
Collars turn against the cloying damp.
Cheery fires lit in cosy rooms.
Summer ends.
Break the harvest camp.
Open out the fruit preserves.
If only we could pickle a pinch of sunlight!
Foggy
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Gadwall - Anas strepera
5 days ago
3 comments:
I love the images and the sentiment in this poem - especially picked sunshine!
Ooops - I meant pickled not picked!
If only we could pick and pickle sunshine!
I love your poem Sally, thank you
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