Copper clothes pegs hanging from natural washing lines,
Threadbare gossamered canopies yielding to relentless winds
Hordes of furred squirrels scattering through billowing eddies.
Autumn is:
Debased bronze coinage of summer discarded from verdant coffers
Blue skies hazed over with a careless streak of powdered milk
The gradual appearance of hidden country cottages with leafy shutters drawn aside.
Autumn is:
Gift-wrapped sets of glossy bowling balls in knife-sharp globules
The roasting hairdryer of summer turned down to medium cool
A farmer's hayfield having a crew cut.
Autumn is:
The shallow veneer of carpeting swept away to reveal a barren underlay
The gardener's truce with ordered symmetry until the following spring
The dried up river bed filled with remnants of carefree picnickers.
Autumn is:
Allotment tenderers out in force amongst the early marshalled cabbage leaves
An old man and his dog fighting a losing battle against the swirling mists on a dank Sunday afternoon
The swallows on the old church roof awaiting a secret signal to depart.
Autumn is:
The hurdy-gurdy and garish light of the strolling fairground fading with the twilight
Nature's rich increase glowing like lanterns along the garden paths
And this endless walk through myriad byways
Encountering the marvels of the year's middle age.
(written in 1970)
(c) Poet in the woods 2013
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