Pause for poetry:
Michael Hawkes /14
A poem by Michael Hawkes
Leaves are taking measured time
To burnish into gold,
Lengthened shadows creep across the wall,
And crisp cold air seeping through the gaps
All tell of summer turning now to fall
And old things passing on
And then around, perhaps.
Come spring, they say, the old will turn anew,
They promise blossoms drunk on morning dew
And all these seeds now falling
Will be bursting, sprouting up, they say,
Reaching out to touch the blue.
My story tells me it’s all true;
No matter what’s in store for me,
Whatever stage I’m going through,
As seedlings grow near parent trees
I’ll not be far from you.
For Aristazabal, born in Sointula, B.C. 1984