Will Cookson
Autumn Song
Sunday morning, she's still asleep and breathing softAwoken by the kettle whistleSend from the distant moss-hung keep to the drowsy croft A prayer my flower won't become her thistleAs I train my fingers to the steel to bring us luck And now she's found my weaknessShe's in my heart and in my dreams and in my waking upShe's in the clay and the landscape drawing on my coffee cupBleary-eyed, the dawn birds sing their songs of love Looking for someone to hold themFree from all our aimless thoughts they fly aboveLike us just doing as Mother told themIn leaving footprints in the lawn when the dew drops freeze While the world keeps spinningShe's in the keen touch of the frost and the wind that moves the treesShe's in the smoke from the bonfire burning up the autumn leavesI numb my fingers in the steam, watch the dog run awayFrom safe behind my windowI think up rhyme to keep us calm and fill the dayNow she's in each vowel and consonant of every word I say
From Letras Mania