Crystal clear
A cool north wind
To take late swallows southerly
And I mourn summers ending
In this autumn glory of a morning
Goldfinches in a little cloud,
Gathered around a Kestrel
Drawn to her
They will never let her go.
She knows
The power she has
And goes gently
Into her morning
And they are lost.
And there you are
The winter Queen
Flying high with her consort
Air moves softly
though your fingers
Takes my breath away
Wingtips set the air a-shimmer
As the dewdrops turn to frost
#CoSopoetry