The passing storm

So the storm has passed
           leaving the streets
littered with dry leaves
           and other debris
fine dust and grit
           that swirls in the wind
and assaults the eyes
           so that we walk
with our heads bowed
           shielding our faces
from the unswerving
           onslaught

What can I say
           we are no longer
roasting by the beach
           paddling in the warm
Channel waters
           or watching children
as they ferry
           sand and water
from one place
           to another

Autumn approaches
           in the stealth
of shorter days
           and longer nights
the summer’s empire
           once more defeated
and it is time
           to feather the nest
the warm love nest
           in preparation for
the months to come
           when we will curl up
into our winter days and
           kiss the hours goodbye

John Lyons