Autumn

If you will agree to correspond with me, you shall have news,
lively fancies, humorous sallies, provided that you give me
elegant sentiments, just criticisms and ingenious observations
on Human Nature, I write to Noel Edmonds.

I am intrigued by your theories, your belief in the non-existence of death,
your philosophy of ‘business at the front, party at the back’,
and have latterly used your contraptions to rid me of silverfish
and remain optimistic for the leg what ails me, I write further to Noel Edmonds.

I wait every morning for the postman to bring a letter from Noel Edmonds
with its distinctive postmark of two flamingos, but none arrives,
only parcels for the McKenzies who live across the canyon
and buy their multivitamins in bulk online.
​
Nevertheless, it is a beautiful day,
neither summer not winter, but somewhere in between.