Realgrumpytyke

By Realgrumpytyke

Reflecting

Yesterday's blip will have to be a back blip: the USB ports on my MacBook seem to have given up so I cannot take pix off my camera card.
I'm playing with a WiFi card but I haven't figured it out completely yet.
So, until I sort out one or both, the iPad will be my blip eye.
I was told at the hospital earlier this week that I had to drink more. Hence the pint of Timothy Taylor's excellent Boltmaker on the table in front of me at today's meeting of our writers' club, Writing on the Wharfe. I'm assuming that was what the nurse meant ;-) .
So, you see Marjorie reflecting on David's words as he reads them. The theme given was 'The fall' and I just have to give you David's superb poem. I'm still reflecting on it.

As Turner's sun glows through the groundling mists,

Berries black and red hang damp, and glisten

In an air skin-tingle fresh.

Before long Winter void, orchards

Await the serial fruitful fall,

Dew-laden, breeze induced,

While, lush on lingering growth, the verges

Trap first smattering of wizening leaves.



Creatures, driven by hint of fear,

The touch of change, instinctively respond;

Yet Man, secure from cycle of concern,

Blood Summer-warm and airily content,

Steps carefree out, scarce fazed

At yet another fading season of his life.

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