A Parliament reconvened,
both shadow and vigorous shoot
of its former self.
The old syzygy of the national psyche
lifts a finger in encouragement and warning
to those who stayed and exiles returning,
Darien survivors,
Marbella's Big Tam, Big Macs,
i-macs and Cape Breton pipers,
diaspora from New Zealand/Aotearoa,
and even Westminster.
Late September
and the graveyard trees
are still heavy
with the fruits of their year's labour,
swaying ponderously
in the wake of a balmy evening breeze.
A gap in the traffic
exposes the silence,
no bird-song,
no football voices,
just an expectant hush
as autumn holds its breath
gathering strength for
sap-scaring frost,
leaf-whipping gales,
the snow-ploughs of winter.