road-sweepers autumn morning song

the chill of the morning
tolls summer's knell
in this indian summer's
equinoctial doldrums
a morning of equality
in the vanishing days
my midsummer gone
maturity's coming on
autumn and winter's stark grandeurs
stands before me

this morning there is a nip in the air
but the clouds in the east are smiling
westward windward is clear and blue
and back in the morning sky
east towards you
the sun is breaking through
to warm my fingers
and promise a last summer's day

i sit above a calmly waxing
low tide morning sea
with my yellow rickshaw
road sweeper's barrow
its red spoked
sunburst wheels silent now
but soon I shall set off again
and send my barra's
squeaking to the morning

and this lazy sunkissed poem
i shall send to you