I wade through swirling streams of mistyped data
Kick at piles of dead-end code
Excavate the odds and ends outside of parameters
Exploring a new kind of binary
Parsed from the noise, full of uncertainty
Replacing if this, then that
With what if, what if
That infinite redirection
Shaping our lives
Though others call it error
We’ve made it to the water lands
The year’s high tide
Where the river sings in silver ribbons
Across the meadow side
And all the rain, crying out a summer
Of loss & uncertainty
Now races down drains and roads
Returning to the sea
We’ve made it to the water lands
Most of the year undone
The dusty soil turned to quicksilver
Under an apple harvest sun
And all the rain, crying out a summer
Of loss & uncertainty
Now races down drains and roads
Returning to the sea
With a dazzling smile, Autumn sunshine in the soft air
Squirrels, tails punctuating the roofline, gather food
Where the eaves and gutters are waiting for leaves
And, up in the Museum tree, two jacks chat to a spotted cat
Waiting, hopefully, beneath. Eyes watching me
Along the lane, among the white nettle, ivy and old apple
trees
I spot a chiff-chaff checking along branches or maybe it’s a
willow warbler
Sage and yellow against the fresh, grassy snort of nearby
horses
At the stile, the hazel branches form a perfect picture
frame
For the Tor, wearing a wide brimmed blue-sky hat
And a green skirt sprigged with people and sheep
Returning past the meadows, a lone swan glides
Schooner skimming the green seas low along the river line
A feathered arrow from an angel’s bow
Blackberry, elderberry, crab apple, chestnut, conkers
The colour of Autumn spilling from the trees
All festoon the path home in celebration of a passing summer
Feel the year slow, the fierce summer sun soften
The promise of Spring setting into ripe Autumn fruit
The harvest home, the seed set, the hard work won
A smile, a chat, a wide brimmed hat
And an early Autumn morning
