Au’um – Ross Wilson


I pointed to leaves
scattered in the gutter,
and branches in the trees
they’d fallen from.
In autumn, I said,
leaves turn golden
and are shed
like feathers in a breeze
whipped-up by wings
beating into flight.
I didn’t mention nights
drawing in. Or time
flying. I kept it light
as the leaf lifted from
the gutter in your palm,
as you uttered, au’um.


Ross Wilson works full time as an Auxiliary Nurse in Glasgow. His first full collection was published by Smokestack Books in 2018. His poems have appeared in The Dark Horse, The Honest Ulsterman, Edinburgh Review, and other publications.

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