Pause for poetry:
Michael Hawkes /14

November 2020

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

12/11/20 Hawkes

Feature image: Bureau of Land Management Oregon and Washington via

Bouton S'inscrire à l'infolettre –


Read other poetry, essays and short stories

Michael Hawkes -

Michael Hawkes is an 80-year-old survivor of all the world’s wars. He learned (and loved to rhyme) by torturing the hymns he had to sing at school. A retired West Coast fisherman living in Montreal since 2013, he is an unschooled Grandpa Moses writing an average of five poems every week.


There are no comments

Add yours