Autumn Equinox

leaves avnue shea oct 2015

 

Turning of the season,

from life

to death.

Ghostlike  we move from one to another.

Ends and beginnings,

beginnings and ends.

Tears falling, silently

upon sodden soil.

Like apples, falling from the tree.

Bruised.

 

Still,

hidden within, a heartbeat

waiting for Lambtide.

©Shullie H Porter  2017

 

Idun and the Apples by James Doyle Penrose (1890)

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Author: Wælcyrie

I'm a 50 plus [ how time flies] multifaceted, oxymoron, who can never really make her mind up. A Follow of the Hekate, a Wælcyrie who walks in the liminal spaces, between and betwix. a Medium, ( I'll talk to anyone dead or alive), a Writer of short stories, a disorganised Blogger, Cake Baker, Jam Maker; Mother Grandmother and Wife.

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