Autumn Warming

it's warm. warmer than it should be
for the fading days of autumn. we are awash with yellow light
surprised by a new crop of white butterflies; having quite thought they were over, they are abounding again
we are finding dragonflies everywhere
and our spring visitors, the centipedes
are here again, two seasons out of their time.
our kitchen window spider spins a new web and grows fat on this unseasonal bounty

sun-bright, the children
are at play in the garden.
the 4-year-old in vest and shorts
the 1-year-old, toddling in blue jeans and strawberry-stained shirt

from my kitchen window I can see them
as I make cuts in the lamb in front of me
pressing rosemary, mint, garlic into crevices
to season the meat. the older one
is moving from citrus trees to herb bed
selecting windfall fruit and loose leaves
murmuring a story to herself, as she composes
a fairy stew.

the baby
(not-so-baby now)
has found a round little lime
jewel-green and fat with juice. she is carrying it
wobbling on her feet, occasionally sitting down in faint surprise
from garden bed to garden bed
running her fingers through the dirt, the leaf litter
and the blossoms, on their last gasp before the cold and quietness to come.
she brushes through the sheets hanging drying on the line
giggling as the cloth catches her and spins her around, raising
the lime to her lips for an exploratory taste.

the air
smells of late-opening roses
herbs, sharp citrus
cut grass
drying cloth. oh, good smells
warm smells.
warm, it is so warm
I cannot remember a late April like it, I say to the older child
as I come to sit on the doorstep
cup of tea in hand.

look, Mummy, she says,
shading her eyes to point skywards. there is a darkness there
a dark cloud coming.
Yes, I say, taking her hand
a storm is due, love.
soon, it'll come
we had best bring the washing in

Yes, says she, hugging my hand to her cheek, we need to move inner-side
it'll be cold soon.
I kiss her, lift the not-so-baby to my hip
and gently shut the door on the rain to come.

- Kathy, 22/4/10