I close the door on summer from an exterior room
Spiralled rock ascending like a celtic rune
Scooped stone marks the heart of this hill
Former mountain
Ground down by the rolling glacial might of thousands
Thousands
Thousands
At the cusp of the equinox
Leaves already swirl their way to litter the ground
I close the door on summer
Feeling how thin the afternoon’s warmth has become
Sitting at the top of what’s left of this hill
Former mountain
Absorbing the depth of this rock that plunges
Deep within the crust
Anchoring itself against the shifting of the plates
Fissures, quakes and lava flows
Tsunami waves thundering down the straits
I close the door on summer
Thinking that we made it through another season
Tomorrow I’ll climb back up
To open up the next door
David Trudel © 2012
Brilliant. Again. xx
Thanks Kathy, appreciate it!