Poetry Corner: One Autumn Evening in Navan
Walked out the cold roads,
could hear the bell ring,
for September.
The blackbirds flew from the tallest trees,
buttressed by the long branches.
They flew over the hedges,
into the fields landing in the nightshade,
to be undisturbed by anything,
including the beginning of the leaves falling,
floating in the darkening wind,
signifying autumn had come to stay
and would strip the trees of their leaves gradually,
with its overpowering presence,
backed up by the months and the seasons,
bound by their cyclicality,
whether cruel or not.
As time was passing,
time was passing,
there being a door in everything,
no matter how imperceptible,
it may be,
to the naked eyes,
at the time.