Ever South

Yellow leaves swoop by the window like errant canaries, confused, bruised, caught in a ghostly whirlwind they rise and fall swirling, hurling, snapping like a flag unfurling, trapped taut against the window caught momentarily, autumn comes to stir things up, to disrupt, the end of summer so abrupt, ruffling the feathers of the glossy blackbirds who darken the sky in swarms and herds, crowding on power lines they huddle together as birds of a feather, cawing, seemingly cursing the weather, so many on the line, a snapshot in time, etched into my mind, sublime, taking flight en masse to head ever south, south, to warmer climes as I hear the deep tones of my Gregorian chimes, thrumming tones that rattle breastbones, I count the autumns that have come and go and I know, I know. ©Danielle White