Fenland Samhain

As day fades,

Sun makes one last entrance,

diffuse cascade of gold poured over

the horizon.

Long rows of trees stream

to the vanishing point.

Distant buildings in this

flat landscape,

dwarfed

by the sky,

forcing eyes upward,

to a varied cloudscape.

Veiled flame-clouds fill

two thirds of the windscreen,

enveloping mist gives the air a pink-grey haze.

Trees, a palette of umber,ochre,

terracotta, russet.

Long fields dry but striated

by dark, loamish slashes.

Parapets of cumulus rise

threatening rain.

In muted tones earth-life,

slows,

cryogenic.

A slow throb holding the spark

as it renews, garners strength and power.

Fusion rolls, compounds secret stockpiles

until the Sun returns,

A high Gloria unveiled.

Droves, cuts, are calm,

sluice gates stand raised.

Churches, chapels, in field corners,

marooned,

sentinels of a once new order.

Hills of mangold wurzels

undulate.

All transmuted

by Autumn's chill breath.

Shrouded shapes coalesce.

Copses rise crannog-like,

above a meniscus of mist.

All Hallows Eve

an attempt to reconcile

what?

Threads of both old and new,

unbroken, bloodied, but unshaken,

Its fulcrum - the Sun Son.

Cloudscape,

above,

of a parallel dimension.

Buildings,

below,

isolated, square,

austerely dark except for a dull glow

in the endmost top window

intrigues.

Aren't they afraid to move so far

from a comforting hearth-side?

Eye, Walsoken,

etymology

connecting us with our past.

Flag Fen, the Iceni,

hidden,

still faintly pulsing,

their DNA entwined with ours.

Samhain-All Hallows

reminds us of part

of helix at our fundus.

Tomorrow the mantle changes,

seemingly.

Warp to weft.

Thread of the future that help us face,

overcome,

winter's soul demands.

The chthonic,not necessarily

detrimental,

reminds that in frailty, arrogance,

ignorance,

we still need the earth,

we are more than flesh.

Rationale is suspended;

for one night

we nod to an olden time,

invisible world reinforcing its reality.

I like night driving.

Light changes

perspectives,

removes details, reveals basics.

Silhouettes,

untrammelled.

Lighted ribbon way speeds,

dull glow behind treed roads,

signals humanity,

at a distance,

where,sometimes, it should be.

At night,

in Fenland, earth has

pre-eminence.

Humans are

marginalised,

other creatures reign,

things closer to God.

My Autumn is now.

If I am wise I will

reconnect

with the basics.

Ditch flim-flam,

remove deadwood

that I might,

at last,

see the trees.