When all wildlife is depleted
and we are left to scrabble
among limy rocks and burnt-out
shrubs and copses, and row
the marshland for sustenance,
we may be rewarded
with a universe of daisies
to remind us of the past:
the gathering of carrots
and merrymaking,
all before facing
the death of the old year,
the passing of the old life,
the cold ash of isolation.
Kim M. Russell, 28th September 2020
My response to earthweal weekly challenge: An Anthropocene Michaelmas
Brendan has reminded us that 29th September is the Festival of St. Michael, ‘patron saint of ocean-farers, boater of the dead to the afterlife and, down deeper, the old sea-god Manannan.’ He has also given us a brief background.
writing in north norfolk 
I liked the life you brought to difficult times
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Thank you.
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Did this prompt make you think of the song ‘Michaelmas Daisies’? This is what immediately sprang to my mind also. I hope we will be left with more than daisies, but daisies would at least be some form of hope!
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I’ve been seeing so man y of them on my Tuesday walks. I can’t go tomorrow as we are expecting roofers to do some much needed repairs.
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I like the thought of earth blanketed in daisies….and peaceful in some far off day.
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Me too, Rosemary.
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Daisies seem to straddle the line between life and death. And yet somehow they leave room for hope. (K)
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Autumn daisies even more so than summer ones, Kerfe.
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Yes, that’s true.
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Traditions become faint memories become ghosts … no wonder St. Michael ferried seasoned souls to heaven. What a ghostly time is coming for us. – b
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Indeed.
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That’s very chilling. I feel the breath of approaching winter in your poem.
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There’s definitely a chill in the air, Suzanne.
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As Suzanne said above, this is chilling, and it does catch a mood. A fine piece of writing, I like in particular, the word “limy”…it kind of arrests the ear!
A good time to get the roof repaired by the way..JIM
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Thank you, Jim. I’m still waiting for the roofers to arrive – I think this weekend’s storm has put them back a bit.
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