September Poem by William Fay

1

Paul's smart in blazer, tie.
We wait by the wych elm
And gate through
Which we are thrown, from

One realm, our Summer
Larks in the wild field,
Toward another like a bed of cut grass.
Or hook gathering up these

Harvest days, toward
Haunted realms and what
Remains... like chalk
Bones feeding the field.

'Caritas Christi Urget Nos'.
The bell, the first and last bell.
On we go, the gate and the door,
Through new kingdoms, this harvest hall.


2


Our school is gone.
A fresh breed capers on
In the ruin and field.
Here the quiet snake crawls.

Bats roost in steeple and ruined towers.
We hear the night owl.
Soon the field measured is dug.
Behind wire and gate, new estates form.

When I return that September
The dry leaves fall early.
A combine and yellow loader chug by
Older we linger in such realms

These haunted places long after
Summer or exile where this
Prodigals return is realised...
In the night I am summoned home.


3


Waiting, I see by chance, a teacher of ours
Wheeled through a hospital ward.
'Caritas Christi Urget Nos'.
I had come to watch my Mother die.

During the long night, before the end, a stranger
Feeds our Sir with a plastic spoon and toddler's cup.
I remember for you, soaked in water,
The last mercy of a foam lollipop.

Sometimes in a mirror or quiet pool
In the bronze and russet wood
I see again the grey shape of a skull
And the bone finger pointing to a door.

On we go, stroke like this season,
Through a hall of ghosts,
The haunted red wood and dim bridge
Toward realms of no return.



4



'I have heard the last bell.
The bell invites me.'
Somewhere, an archer. The arrow is fired,
Then by the gate, falls.

Here the road ends, the usual ways.
Times gate closing. Then black smoke and ash
Swept like memory away with the
Fallen leaves and dried out bouquets.

Oh! slain Prince, our Queen, wait
Like winter's bird where the conker stone,
The dried apple stud this frosted turf,
Here, where the elms rich promise will again

Bloom by the church, the sweet flower gate
In lost Spring and Summer kingdoms
Our ghosts, my Mother, our schoolfriends
Before harvest and September's next intake.