August Wind

Cinematic ghosts flicker through our lives

denied by our own self-doubt

The stitched clouds sing no rain

and the tears of flowers taste sweet

Studies on the wind

chastened by holy spurs

fly in regnal estacy

golden broderie flouncing into dust

dematerialising in mists of misgivings

and misericord murmurings

A pyewype cackles

Tommorrow was my father’s birthday

a hundred-and-twelve candles

heat our glowing faces

My cross-hatched

skin contorts with glee

to have the family assembled

in this vision

of my boyish ignorance

Outside, the real August

blazes in a different light

Swifts depart early

my siblings cease to mock

or impart wisdom

No fussing mother to dampen spirit

The sun has turned her back on me

and I shiver in the leaf-danced light

Dew so heavy

my faery wings are damped

I am grounded - adrift

and vulnerable

No sooner is summer’s solstice lit

than my world begins to darken

Sorrow sings the air

and the wind turns cruel

Someone has stolen my fire

I chill - shall I cross my chest

in deathly repose?

Those I’ve held dear

have taken my tokens

my measured gestures.

Taken the keepsafes and spirit guards

infused about my person

for a thousand days

If they shudder in fear

my energy will be near

to repel malignance:

Siamese silver✔️

Solingen Steel✔️

Cottage craft leather✔️

and even a note,

whose words from the page

ink a thousand skylord fighters

Take them and use them wisely…