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Tom McKeown

Morning Meditation In Autumn


Always to make journeys
Always the quickening step
The backward look
The clawing feeling that something
Has been left behind
The wind adds and subtracts
The black hood of despair rides
Just above my ears

In the distance the sky clears
A few silver leaves scratch the grass
And I discover my own silver hair
filling the mirror

But why should I watch for silver
When outside there is so much gold
Gold palms gold fingernails
Gold coins speckling the air
With rushes and withdrawals
Dizzying plays within plays
That swell the seams of the soul
With the energy to fly


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