Sunday, 6 November 2011

The Sunday Post.

Wanting to go,
all the leaves want to go
though they have achieved
their kingly robes.

Weary of colours,
they think of black earth,
they think of
white snow.

 Stealthily, delicately
as a safe breaker
they unlock themselves
from branches.

And from their Royal Towers
they sift silently down
to become part of
the proletariat of mud.

Norman MacCaig.
September 1982

photo: Alet Les Baines, Languedoc, France by Alistair.


Nicky said...

Love this, Alistair. Seems like MacCaig had a poem for every occasion, every mood……and I love the autumn. Beautiful photo too - very autumn, very France.

Alistair said...

I love Autumn too. Thanks for the compliment on the photo - one I took while on holiday last month.

I just love the slant MacCaig puts on things.

Rebecca S. said...

That's a wonderful poem. McCaig has a warmth and humour that come through everything you share with us here. I am catching up on your blog after a week of mad busy-ness.

Alistair said...

It certainly fitted the colours that week - now gone in the gales this week.

The Sunday Posts 2017/Mince and Tatties.

Mince and Tatties I dinna like hail tatties Pit on my plate o mince For when I tak my denner I eat them baith at yince. Sae mash ...