A drop catches the tip of my ear,
I get goosebumps as it trickles down
Onto the orange leaf I draw near.
The colours, swimming in yellow,
Make me feel warm and mellow,
And I gaze out the window as Lady Conker
Undresses her sleepy limbs into darker brown.
I watch her swiftly sway all year round,
But I find this is when she changes most.
I see the squirrels take away her spiky
Jewellery, and store it for next year’s ball
So she may rest, until summers’ gentle call.
Oh, but now the sky is dark again,
And Lady Conker is naked in the rain.
I miss her, but I know this is how she sleeps
Safe and sound under Winter’s sheet, she does not weep.
Mr. Wind whistles his way into my bedroom.
He’s sullen when I ask him to leave.
He too leaves with a tantrum
(Like when Dad tells me off),
Thumping against window panes,
He marks the glass with freezing stains.
One of my toes slips out of woollen slipper,
I forget how fast I grow, like the trees outside.
It’s getting colder and darker now.
So, I huddle up, cocooned in silky silence,
And remember: sometimes it’s best
To retreat; to remain warm.
Like the sleeping bulb
In cool frosty earth.
As I wake, I run to the garden.
I feel the faint tickle on my feet,
The prickly grass,
I dare not eat.
(Only when Mum is looking away)
Fresh and glimmering
Under the sunlight,
Lady Conker stretches out, glowing.
Meanwhile, steady Western Breeze combs her hair,
Also cooling the drooping warmth
Of thick Mr. Sluggish Air
Snoozing on the porch.
Next, I wiggle my nose
Into the cool bead that falls
Out of this years’ flower -
The very first in a while.
Soon there will be many
Decorating Lady Conker’s locks.
Sweet scents that make my sister
Sneeze, whilst I laugh and smile,
And watch the busy bees,
Bumbling in haste across the lawn.
The scents of life a-new
Climb out of yawning soil.
And on the grass, across
The backyard, sits the dew
That marks Mme. Morning’s hour.
Underneath, all the colours
And, in this way,
I breathe too.
By Louder Than The Storm writer, Nina Purton.