Feels like poetry tonight . . .

A glass of wine to ease the way

A cup of red scented sweetly as bruised roses

Warming the flesh and humming along bones

Alive with memories of days long past.

The storm came and drenched the road,

Ragged clouds harried before by mighty wind gusts

emptying torrents of rain on the blanching grasses

and jewelled leaves still clinging to the trees.

There is a waiting about the air,

A pause in the atmosphere,

A stillness in the movement of time and tide

while the planet hurls itself through space.

The season changed, but the earth resists,

delaying the fall into barren branch and frozen earth

as a woman plucks her silver hairs

as a man fights the aches of age.