All gone! The brilliant greens and vivid blues
Are drained of their vitality as winter
Cuts it’s teeth and autumn fades
Its timorous light barely heats before
Withdrawing into early evening dark
And even our speech seems subdued
Under the laden air that heavily hangs
Until whispering we withdraw home too
The usually colourful Lea Valley suddenly felt dulled on today’s afternoon walk.
(12.12.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Seasons
Poem 47 – A Winter Crime
Clear skies allowed a freezing night’s trespass,
A trail of frosty tracks hard evidence.
The dawn’s spotlight reveals its icy prints,
Deep etched forensics cross our car’s windscreen.
So armed with scraper in my gloved numb hand,
I set to gustily restore the scene,
And clear the way to safely drive, whilst not
Breathing, in case the mist offends my view.
Storm Arwen has departed leaving in its wake dropped temperatures, adding a extra step before my wife’s morning commute.
(29.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 38 – A Hokey Cokey Time of Year
Tentative November’s a folk dance month
Unable to decide if it’s out or it’s in
Leaves bravely clinging to branches above
Fallen companions raked into the bin
The sun always rises but never quite makes it
Descending before it reaches the top
Fireworks shrill as Fawkes interrupted
But bombers press on and their plots do not stop
The eleventh we remember but still stand conflicted
Pushing and shoving to remain best of the lot
Decisions announced but next day rejected
Political turnarounds made on the spot
Superstore isles full of crackers and tinsel
Seasonal adverts promise festive fun
Christmas is here piped music’s proclaiming
But November’s not finished nor Advent begun
I always find November a confused month, a strange transition from one season to the next with Christmas looming large in the distance. This confusion seems to be seeping into our current affairs this year.
(18.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Photo by Bryan Ledgard – https://www.flickr.com/photos/ledgard/10254453475/, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=58259782
Poem 35 – Interval
Half past four
Night lowers its curtains
These dark navy drapes
Announce the act’s end
Accompanied by birdsong
Once enveloped
Orchestra and players
Can rest unseen
As they do
We too draw our curtains
Withdrawing
Affords the chance to stretch
Relax body and mind
Assimilate experiences
Be renewed
The alarm rings
Shrilly declaring interval’s end
Bleary we reclaim our seats
And wait for dawn’s revelation
Of today’s set
I love these late autumnal days when night comes so early, allowing us to close the curtains and shut out the world. Not so keen on it being dark when I rise however…
(14.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Ode for the Day 