Shreds: “The Fool I Seem”

Early blades of autumn, red and keen,
To stir the sleep still cling’n’ (to) my mouth,
I stretch my shoulders, my ears; its touch…
The maestral now unsettles me,
And lays me down, the fool I seem,
Who at the last skilled dart he nocks,
Brings hand to quiver, knuckle mocks,
And hits the void with a subdued gleam.

Seasons swiftly pass at pace
And here I stand on dampened rock
Like that fool, waiting with cue,
In hand, for some bite, lost in thought.
I think perhaps a compromise
‘Twixt me and this fool, my mind strains,
Not to ponder, wind and rains,
On the same rock, drop by drop.