gone to the dogs

we do not reach the edge and simply wait
for others to catch up and find us there
but plough on further deep in the affair
where there's a margin between will and fate
nothing's disclosed nor open to debate
since we are subject to recoil from care
or be abused and chided anywhere
we utter speech all choices have to grate
there is no reason that we must return
like beaten dogs in summer to this place
yet still you find us trying not to run
from any anger facing the harsh burn
of baying voices shouting out disgrace
at all of those who brave the brassy sun

behold the bright gallant

the moon is dancing in the village square
with happy girls whose eyes reflect the stars
while older folk bite down on their cigars
and watch the smoke rise through the calm night air
this is the time of change the turning year
moving fast downward but no harsh thing mars
the splendid moment and there are no bars
to joy this night the morning's time for fear
we do not know what sorrows still to come
will burn themselves into each youthful heart
no terrors lurk but love's rewards are won
though elder smiles conceal the truths of glum
experience they let the young ones dart
into dark corners soon enough comes sun

mango-red leaves

leaves start to fall they're mango-red and dry
but seem like scattered tears in the grey dawn
when i have got the paper from the lawn
and sought the new day's fortune in the sky
with hope the auguries will not now lie
while those who sleep behind curtains still drawn
miss happy sight of trotting deer and fawn
for all the world like neighbours passing by
now this is change and magic in its way
which multiplied becomes the world's own form
and contains us such moments we retain
in deepest memory against the day
of dearth and sorrow in the heart of storm
when we are lashed by coldest wind and rain