Written from word-sketches done during a recent poetry workshop I led out at Castle Lachlan.

September, Castle Lachlan

.

The surface of the water holds a muted print

Inked by all these early autumn colours

Leached from trees, from sky

Until a fish leaps

Rips a dripping hole in this perfect picture

Then plops back on a belly laugh

Something buzzes by

Lacquered like a Chinese cabinet

The air still warm enough for the burn of tiny insect engine

Converting speed to sound in this

The last gasp of a summer almost

Gone

Meanwhile in the ragged edge of the old wood

Small things claw and clatter by

Moving in sudden squirts to trick the hungry eye

Clinging leaves filter and flick at the low sunlight

They have not quite

Fallen

The ragged old castle leans on its ivy Zimmer

Watching it all go by through watered eyes

Wondering where it all went

Leaking dark memories through those broken curtain walls

The canons roars

No more