Catherine Wheels in Autumn.

A bitter moonlight sparkles down,
We are listening to the crystals that fall
from the echos of stars,
gathering frost in the cathedral of the sky,
a moment that fell from darkness.

clouds stiffen in the rain,
your eyes burn like a catherine wheel in Autumn.

In the emerald-dark branches
of a firework tree
A pigeon sips clouded pear juice
from a clouded pear.
And children still
scrump fruit from the orchards.

I cut my pear with a sliver of the moon.
The voice of the dawn whispers,
opaque, silvery as bird psalm,
grey and crisp.

Autumn has become a skeleton,
orchards unwind themselves into piles of
spent wool, then blow away.

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