Quartets

Vaughan Williams' string quartets.
Autumnal.

Spikes of notes like newly bare branches against
A flat, empty, provisional sky.
Slow, plangent phrases with cello undertow
Like time draining away.

The still, thoughtful, changed time of the year.
The seasons poised, listening to a desolate-sounding robin in the dusk.
Chill mornings, thicker clothes,
The lights coming on before you leave work.

The spacious promise of English pastoral idyll.
Wood smoke, stars coming out,
The warmth of home and of love,
Made desperately valuable by the sad,
Relentless promise of death.