This day is the fulcrum, the tipping point
Over which the seesaw of the season
Balances, perfectly spirit level.
Day and night, with commensurate restraint,
Sit facing each other as if they’ve chosen
To let the year begin to unravel
While, for a moment, enjoying the sense
Of suspense in equiponderance.
Despite Day still being warm, there is a sense
Of the cold, of the dark, to come, of Night
Quite inexorably consuming the light:
Look out, the realm of darkness is immense.
An instant of stasis, as if time stalls,
As if a breath is held, then a leaf falls.
Dave Alton
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