Poem of the Week: Changes

This week’s poem is probably a mixture of things. Just under a year ago I had a terrible time with my mental health. I was scared to go out the house, woke up every morning absolutely terrified, and my anxieties were so high it was difficult to even sit still for more than half an hour. I would manage things in small intervals. I’d have a hot bubble bath that would calm me for perhaps half an hour. I’d watch the TV show Friends and manage to get through the day just getting engrossed in the seasons. I even resorted to more baking as it truly helped get my attention on something other than my anxieties (I made quite a lot of biscuits and scones).

After a few months I managed to read books again, and finally felt as if I was getting better. But it took time, and I definitely felt like it was slow going. I missed the changing of the seasons because I was so caught up in my anxieties, so this year I hope things will be better.

But as I said, this poem has a twofold meaning, and the second meaning is the fact that today is the first of September. Autumn is on the way. The leaves will soon be falling, the air will grow colder, certainly in the evenings to start with, and then later, throughout the day we’ll need our jackets and coats to keep warm. I much prefer Spring to Autumn, but even though I sound perhaps a little negative, there are positives about the season and things I love. I love the warm jumpers and thick scarves, the pumpkin spice lattes, the candles burning on the window sills – a light against the oncoming darkness. I’ve already been out to buy autumn scented candles. I have bought a new jumper for my autumn wear, and I honestly feel like a change is on the way. August was a great month, a busy month, but September feels like it will equally be a busy month, filled with decluttering and crafts, lots of reading, and the rewatching of my favourite TV show – Gilmore Girls, which has a distinctly autumnal air. I’m looking forward to nights in spent learning embroidery, doing more art, and definitely reading more than four books a month (which I sort of need to, as I’m a few books behind on my yearly challenge!).

There’s something soft and warm about the autumn season. It’s colours, the shifting light, the hunkering down. The rainy days will be spent baking, filling up the kitchen with scents of cinnamon and nutmeg. I can almost taste them now.

So yes. Perhaps this week’s poem is a homage to the changing of the seasons, but also the memory of that time a year ago. I suspect there will be more autumnal poems as we go through the months of October and November too… but let’s see, shall we?


What can I say to these days in the mist
Dreaming of a life that’s not to be missed
I cannot whisper, speak but a word of it
Learning how my soul is to be unpicked

I close my eyes against the darkening
See a light peering out of the night to sing
A voice is calling out, stark into the air
While the monsters snarl right up from their lair

But I have passed those darkened days by
And I lift my gaze to the golden sky
There’s a memory that lingers, just a tale now
But it drifts away from the thickening bough

So I settle myself in those ancient trees
Dreaming of endless clear blue seas
I whisk away for a year and a day
Taking a step on the dream-lit bay

Now the year’s turning, moving, it slips
Past the seasons and the sun slowly dips
I wonder at moments, aghast at the change
And fall to my dreams as they turn almost strange

A candle alight, quick as the breeze
Oh this day that is turning, I swear I shall seize
I call out a song and sing into the sky
For a change of the seasons deserves such a cry

On this day, just beginning, of the autumn turn
The comforts of home, today we all yearn
Winds change all a’sudden, whisking away
Warm sun and blue clouds for a whole other day

The rains are returning, the cold wind doth blow
And we all hunker down with our thoughts deep below
Here is a dream, waiting clear in the wings
As we sit and delight at what the new season brings.

Kate @ Kandid Chronicles x

Listening to ‘Sleepwalking’ by Lindsey Stirling


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