Tell Me What You See

Under an autumn sky

the instinctual habit

of a disturbance of leaves

sweeping across the floor
outside in an anti-clockwise motion

startles the overlapping silence
of secret things we can’t know, 
bathed in the crisis of light.

An assortment of feelings -

real and moving, sharing space

with cumulative intakes of breath,

circulate in no particular order,

combining with new

and diverse interpretations

subtly connected to

the tenderness of

an imperfect language

whose stream-of-consciousnes

mimics a soul

entrenched in thought –

myself amongst it

in this present.