Posted in poetry

Soon Stowed

Truth waits in the bare trees,
Perched there, impassive,
Coal-eyed truth, on the limbs,
In mourning feathers,
Autumn blowing in
Past the huddled harbor masts
And through the tired tin
Of the fun fair rides,
Soon stowed, soon stowed.

Author:

I’ve retired after a career teaching law. I divide my time now between Athens, Georgia, in the States and the south coast of Ireland.