is the changing face of nature
as summer slowly cedes to autumn:
flocks of birds morph in a washed-out sky,
kaleidoscopic shapes in preparation
for arduous flights and winter migration;
hedges drip with blood-red berries,
green foliage metamorphoses
into shades of amber, gold and rust,
and that first leaf lands in grass and dust.
Kim M. Russell, 2017
Paul is our host for Poetics this week. He thinks we could do with taking a break from all the heavy stuff that’s happening in the world and wants us to park the protests, the activism, the heavy load, the soul searching, the deep poems, by the roadside for a night and go in search of a little magic. He has shared a magical poem by Shel Silverstein to help us along the way to conjuring up a poem using the word ‘magic’ in some form or a piece that is quite simply magical.