Autumn

 

Leaves that polka
amber crisp
low slung sun...
tree tops kissed
ethereal hand of
autumn mist

Natures voices
brooks that babble
wrens and robbins
berry nibble
wagtails, blue tits
start to squabble

Gloves and scarves
pulled from drawers
Sunday walks
on purple moors
squirrels hunt
for hidden stores

Harvest over
death descents
but life's cycle
never ends
from dead seed
New life begins

 

 

Photo - grand-daughter Ivy with Murphy one autumn .....