Pause for poetry:
Michael Hawkes /9

Autumn Wind

A poem by Michael Hawkes


A wind from the wilderness whines through the city;
The same sighing wind plows the plains of Siberia
And kicks at the rollers in Bering Strait;

The same plaintive howl sweeps the streets
To which the wolves responded,
For which the night owls wait.

From moaning across the tundra
Then gathering speed over Hudson’s Bay
Now through my cell it reverberates.

Bringing forlorn thoughts of winter storms,
Woebegone stoves in smoke filled dorms
And loneliness in all its forms,

With dreams of no escape
From the ceaseless hustle of rushing air,
Or from the longing it inflates.

06/09/20 Hawkes

Feature image: Natalia Medd via
Bouton S'inscrire à l'infolettre –

Read also: other poems

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