The world wakes to you,
Like spice stirs senses long forgot,
Like earthy peat burnt on a hearth
Lends smoke aroma to a pot.
And stretching from the once-warm air
To crisp and frosty morning breath,
The world welcomes your coming then—
You are the new and favourite death.
When ghost of Summer lingers on
In golden sunshine packaged up,
You cradle life toward its end
And fill the harvest to the cup.
And as the leaves are turning still
To ochre or to crimson hues,
The crinkle of their skeletons
Is music for the wind to use.
The world wakes to you:
A parting gift before the sleep,
When Winter covers all the land;
Your memory a dream to keep.
Here in Western Australia, in the Gnaala Karla Booja region of the Noongar nation, our season is changing from bunuru (second summer) to djeran (autumn). I love this time of year. The above poem reflects more on my impression of autumn growing up in the UK, but I’ve made an effort to go on a walk or two in my local area recently to gain more insight into the season’s change here. Most noticeable are the red blossoms coming out everywhere, along with the cooler mornings. I like to watch the honeyeater birds snacking on the nectar of our backyard bottlebrush, and reflect on how nice it is for the native garden to have settled in and grown so well. I shall endeavour to share some photos soon.
What season is it in your part of the world? Happy fifth Wednesday, and may April bring you happiness. Next week will be a new Insecure Writer’s Support Group post. Hope to catch you then.