For Andy Humphrey, with respect.

Because there's poignant glory in decay.
Because each burst of light may be the last.
Because the rusting hasp on dwindling days
grants access to new treasures from the past.

Because of gold and rubies on the boughs.
Because the bitter apple crop has sweetened.
Because we broke our backs in June but now
the leeks we broke our backs for may be eaten.

Because of fireworks, bonfires, fog and gales.
Because of wolves and witches at the door.
Because our words need wasp stings in their tails.
Because a poet loves a metaphor.

Because the breath of winter will be colder.
Because with every heartbeat we are older.