Putting back the clocks
It catches us by surprise every time.
We never manage to be ready for it,
even though the slowly-paling days
have already shrunken down so much
they barely even fit into their boxes,
and complain fiercely to everyone
about the lack of themselves.
Without any clear reason or instructions,
we’ve started eating porridge again.
Taking herbal supplements. Regular showers
of leaves spray from the parade of trees
lining the wet streets uptown. Certain
bolder ones – poplars, you decide –
are the first to go fully, brazenly naked.
Trying to ignore the wheezy darkness,
we roam the house, digging out timepieces,
stealing hours, pushing buttons, twirling dials
on the heater controls. It all adds up
to so little. But always there will be one
we’ve missed, will discover mid-January,
clinging quietly to last year’s summer.
first published in Northampton Poetry Review, issue 2, 2018