The Tuesday Poem: Fey
Fey
your door
stands open still
at dusk, your light
a moth’s antenna
across
shadowed lawn
bare feet rustle
in last year’s
leaf drift, a wind
sways
through naked trees
you say
you will hang
a cricket cage
above your lintel,
burn apple wood
in the grate –
dance, the circle
of your skirt
reflecting
the moon’s dark face
I ride
a rocking horse
with patchwork eyes,
steal
through your door
to the cold-stone hearth –
dream
of dervish footsteps
hurdy-gurdy trees
(c) Helen Lowe
Highly Commended, Takahe National Poetry Competition 2008
Published in Takahe 68, December 2009
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I think of this as an autumn poem, but somehow, with our Southern Hemisphere winter turning toward spring again, it suits both my mood and the season.
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Such an evocative poem, Helen. I look forward to reading your poetry. Hope you find enough time amongst the novels to write some more.
I hope so, too, Penenlope–and am almost sure that I will, since the poems have a habit of “just coming”, the way the haiku sequence did when I was finishing writing Daughter Of Blood.