Like Water in Reverse


Leaves flowing across the road
a restless tide of maple coloured syrup.
Stray side wind
that whisks dead leaves into her arms,
Fills her cheeks and kiss blows them
Rolling
Tumbling,
across a zebra crossing in bright sunlight.

Down Swinnow Road she tosses the leaves up high
An amber murmuration
Hurled the height of a caramel sandstone rail-bridge
they catches the sun like golden confetti.
Honey coloured lentoid lights against the black of the bridge interior
all dark shadows under the pigeon inhabited vault.

And further along the road where the Merry Monk was
A torrent of leaves pour up a hill, like weir water in reverse

strong, flowing, ripulous ripples of russet, burnt orange and cinnamon.

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