At the Year’s Autumn Turning
1
Penn ar Bed
This morning the sun lifts
right behind the silver birch
who’s been dropping her leaves
a few day by day, the first tree,
as she was to clothe herself
in spring. The more she lets go
the more the rest glow gold.
11
Ste Anne la Palud
Later the sea gentles at our feet,
breathes in and out, her tides
swell and subside; a constant,
just as the moon rises and fades,
each night a little different,
but always present.
There’s a constancy we crave
in our uncertain lives in these
uncertain times. Here on this
long Atlantic strand,
we’re given it.
Roselle Angwin
