Autumn Days Stay Happy
I sit on the old bench, a warm wood autumnal morning
Sun streaming fights away the first chills of the day
The season calls for turning, but not quite yet
I close my eyes and let the warm light with sublime
tenderness caress my slightly upturned face.
Closed lids bright at the joyfulness of the living light
as it paints a picture across my face.
In that warm soul comforting moment, listening
One sense tranquil as the others roam free.
Robin and Wren compete, troupadores
for the early morning melodic prize
Staccato fierce challenge taunting a melodic shrill reply
In the distance the rooks laugh from the sycamore grove
at the foolishness of man whilst mourn the Summer’s passing,
Far away in the distance the barking dog signals
the return of the fattened lamb from fellside high,
marketplace bound, their cycle almost complete.
The drone of the last honey bee, slow and lethargic
the vigors of Summer gathering long past and gone,
its time and purpose call for an ending.
A Quarry truck bounces down the high road that winds it way,
never quite straight, across heather clad hills,
Reverberating waves of thunder follow its passing
punctuated by the odd banshee scream a sudden squeak,
potholes found in their endless game of hide and seek.
The air is heavy, languorous in tone
Spring was fresh and full of promises ready to unfold,
Summer was heady, intoxicating, gay, life to the full
But now the earth has low tones of nature’s perfume.
Rotting leaves, time of the mushroom and toadstool, strangely reassuring.
Wet, damp, moist, and heady, all slightly uplifted by the woodburner’s resurrection,
or is it the last vestiges of the bonfire leaves.
Toffee apples, cinder toffee, baked potatoes, charred, and blackened by raw embers
Rise and awaken deep rooted childlike happy days, cherished memories.
So I sit in the warm light of the Autumn morning sun,
an Autumn day in the Autumn of my days
Searching for signs and portents that surround
Wondering if Winter’s touch will be so kind