Sunday, 20 October 2024

Mid-October Reverie

A sharp nip in the air I feel ...

Is this Indian Summer real?

Leaves, multi-coloured, spin and fall

Bold swooping birds their comrades call.

 

Untenanted, the swallows’ nests

As they head south like all the rest …

Road sweepers, wrapped up warm, survey

Their mammoth task –  it’s clean-up day!


I love this golden time of year:

Pert mushrooms burgeon everywhere

Weird, mystic, toxic and benign;

For artists - such a precious time …

 

Crisp, Autumn chill, with tugging gusts

As Summer’s green turns into rust;

Deep puddles shimmer in moon glow

With Nature’s pace reduced to slow…


(c) Poet in the Woods 2024



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