The swifts have weaned their young 
and those the cat didn’t get 
are gunning for Africa. 
Perhaps they get caught 
in the nets of our Italian songbird 
lovers. They like them grilled. 

Smoke columns rise at various 
points across the flats and hills. 
The farmers are burning off the old chaff 
and sometimes a few hectares 
of precious woodland. 

Yesterday a tornado ripped 
across the open land and took 
umbrage at our apple tree: 
split off half of it in a rage hardly 
ever seen that far East 
of Tornado Alley. 

A month ago, summer still 
stretched languidly by the side 
of the pool, and I would compete 
with my friendly wasps for 
a breakfast of figs among 
big-handed leaves. 

As they tumble and stumble 
even the rose petals whisper 
to no-one in particular: beware 
of the lion of winter. Stick out 
your tongue. Taste that first edge 
of the crystal knife announcing its 
return. Make sure your barn 
is full of firewood. 

Rose Mary Boehm

is a German-born British national living and writing in Lima, Peru, and the author of two novels as well as eight poetry collections. Her poetry has been published widely in mostly US poetry reviews (online and print), and has been nominated several times for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Her most recent collections are available on Amazon: Life Stuff (Kelsay Books, 2023), Do Oceans Have Underwater Borders? (Kelsay Books, July 2022), Whistling in the Dark (Cyberwit, July 2022), and Saudade (Kelsay Books, November 2022). Her new manuscript is in progress.

Author’s website: https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/