OCTOBER ENGLISH FROG

 Oi mate, you'd better hibernate

Winter’s on its way,

And it won’t hesitate.

So, get yourself secure,

And do deep deep sleep.

Just crash right out,

Until springtime brings relief.

Crawl underneath a stone,

Or creep under a log.

A nasty English winter

Is no place for a frog.

Snuggling below

A tasteful garden feature

Would make a warm winter hotel

For a cold-blooded creature.

I've got to stay awake

For six months,

A shivering man,

So, I envy the slumber

Of an amphibian.

You can dream

Of the sun

While you hunker down and wait.

You can’t fly like a swallow

You’re unable to migrate,

So, take decisive inaction,

And proceed to hibernate.

autumnal

 the wind makes the trees speak

as it strips them down to their wooden skeletons

‘Why did summer die?’ they cry’

weeping leaves that rattle along

tarmac and pavement

clouds ride a growing gale

crows try to fly into it

and fail

blown off straight flightpaths

like black rags

Scrawl crawls

Scrawl crawls across this white page

like a trail left by a drunken ant

that's been dipped in ink

outside the window in October

parakeets screech at each other

and I screech at my hand

that can no longer control a pen

once I could right fine script

wield an italic nib

to do calligraphy almost

then I tripped headfirst

into some dustbins

breaking the arm

held out to break my fall

now my days of fine script are over

I must use a machine

that does not understand my words

or failing that

I'll have to employ

a drunken ant