Autumn’s Song on the Staves

on the staves

Meteorological autumn started yesterday, first of September.  House martins under the eaves of my house raised two broods of young this year.  The parent birds emigrated two weeks ago to their mysterious destination. Their fledglings will follow in the next few days using directions imbued within them while in the egg.

On the Staves

The wrinkled hand of autumn

Spans the octave of the seasons

And transposes summer’s song

To an ancient minor key

Timely heard by house martins

Who, clustering on the staves

Of telegraph wires,

Compose a valediction.

The bitter sweet song of summer.

Harry Wells

 

 

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