Living between sea and waterways, I love this time of year. Schools have celebrated harvest, clocks have gone back, and nights are drawing in with frost and spooky tales.
Along the coast and above the marshlands, the sky is haunted, filled with the cries of wintering birds. In the woods, frills of fungus cling to trees and sprout from moist earth; the other week, we found clusters of mushrooms on the moorings. Squirrels scuff up drifts of vibrant leaves, collecting winter provisions: chunks of fallen apples, acorns and vibrant berries.
In the fields, the only bright colour is the last of the rapeseed crop, acid yellow against grey sky. The rest of this flat landscape is brittle with stalks and crumbed soil. This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence, from which I expect ghosts to rise, tangled with sea frets and twilight mists.
Kim M. Russell, 28th October 2019
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Prosery 5: All Hallows
It’s Prosery Monday and Björn has chosen two lines written together from Louise Glück’s poem ‘All Hallows’: “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence” – a great choice for the time of year – to be incorporated into 144 words of prose.