We went for a walk through the falling leaves yesterday.
This was the Aoradh (and friends) installation in Benmore gardens. We twinned the leaves with a poem- each one taken from this book, from the section called ‘Losing’.
Here is one of them;
Open hearts have to close sometimes
“Close the door, you’re letting all the warmth out.”
It’s autumn and the dying leaves are skittering over the porch, whistling over the concrete step.
The chilly gusts swoop and swirl round the doorframe, over my arms, making me shiver.
My heart aches like a cavitied tooth when it meets ice cream; cold right to the bone.
“But he might come back… I can’t close the door; what if he comes back?”
I look out on the bleakness, search for vacant signs of life.
They shake their heads, pitying me mutely.
“Close the door, love.”
I know. I know.