Mind : 'Warming' a poem by David Gwylim Anthony


by David Gwylim Anthony - 2012


The season's course seems strange to me,

more strange than I remember. 

Wild flowers bloom unseasonably:

primroses in November.


The young pretend to blame us all.

Well, youth's a great dissembler:

May was forever, I recall,

and there was no November.


These days I'll take what Nature sends

to hoard for dour December:

a glow of warmth as autumn ends;

primroses in November.