I See Signs of Autumn

Mervyn R. Seivwright
| poetry


voices clashing lines to an election

drafted on the canvas. Mornings

here afar covering American night news

are cold as Aschbach Walzweiher

long, wavering

lake’s strands of mist

hiding facts, lies

prolonged, ghost streaks hovering

behind unlawful deaths,

before trees find their reflection

people seeking clarity

once the sun penetrates the canyon

in a winding deep

valley. Trees beyond the forest

dense population, hurting,

find no comfort, their leaves

fragile from disease, exclusion,

falling before colors

exposed hate feelings

are coated. The woodlands

produce protests

cuddled, are warm enough

hitching looters ripping the truth

to paint fire yellow to red leaves,

a voice will rise

woven between stretched

tall, existing, loud

bark pines in their green collage,

speaking into the wind, unity. Below

only the Western Bracken ferns

the poisonous bottom feeders

are browning,

ivy with hands scratching society, crackle

now frail, retracting, widening

possibilities for change, finds

the path for acorns, pinecones,

new seeds, seeking fertile ground,

covering slot prints, hoof prints,

creating safe spaces with alarm

crunched as warning

from eight-minute demise

to deer, wild boar wandering,

to the voiceless

before winter’s rest.

Mervyn R. Seivwright is from a Jamaican family and was born in London. His work has appeared in AGNI, The American Journal of Poetry, African American Review, and 37 other journals. Mervyn was a 2021 Pushcart Prize nominee, and currently lives in Schopp, Germany.

In This Town We Rescue Cats
A Stilt of Daddy Longlegs