Autumn

A poem

In the autumn of last year, I wrote this piece, and as I sat here this morning looking out the window writing my next poem, this came to mind so thought I'd share it again.

Whatever your favourite season is, there's always something to see, and whether or not you can get out to see it, I hope this poem stirs a sense of autumn within.

For those unable to see the image, please find the text only version below:-

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Leaves of golden brown float peacefully down the canal.

Branches glow with a redness only known at this time of year.

The season is losing its colour but regenerating to a new shade

that’s even more dazzling than the last.

Ivy creeps towards the winter, tightening its grip on memories of seasons past,

as the sun casts shadows across muddy footpaths.

In the hedgerows, an untuned cacophony of starlings and sparrows chatter

with talk of colder days on the horizon,

as bare branches bend low,

and fields lay barren with reed grasses, now pale and spindly.

Red berries burst from the remaining deep green hedgerow,

and the stark blue sky brings light in an otherwise dark period.

Gliding gracefully across its backdrop, a red kite,

soaring further than the gentle breeze would seem to allow.

The red and blue brickwork on the canal bridge is

mottled white and daubed with moss.

Wagtails dart across the lock,

perching momentarily before moving on.

Tucked in the shadow of an overhanging bush,

a brilliant white cat with sooty face

sits admiring the lunchtime sun

and birds flitting around,

before scuttling away as a dog approaches.

Be thankful for the year past,

and lean in to what changes await.

Autumn has arrived.