Threshold

That chime in the air

With a kind of sting

I feel I am no longer young

Alone today with rain

Draining gently into cold blue-white

Crystals of miles of pipe

And the gusts of cold wind

Driving it spattering over bitumen road

These days many cairns of memories

Hail my steps

Before I know which

Corner I should turn and why

They cluster like rings on my fingers

And wind about my flying years

Before they fall like dying leaves

Into blackness and mulch

Then all over again

Another spring arrives

And like an idiot once more

I dare to think

My thoughts are crowned

Like the May Queen

– Megan Payne

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