Autumn Ending

Photo image: Ros Anstey.

Damp leaves dripping yellow,

November rusting on the bough,

Hazel Nut and Plum and Cherry,

Oak and Ash and Chestnut grove.

All unite in sad remembrance,

Leaves unnumbered falling down,

Reluctantly they desert the others,

Fatefully they fall to ground.

Recumbent I lie staring at them,

Pillow propping up my head,

Gently waving, air blows through them,

As I view them from my bed.

Grey the autumn sky above them,

Everything is soaking wet,

This the soggy end of Summer,

Cusp of winter coming yet.

So as universal time and movement,

Determines seasons of the year,

Nature's ritual of undressing,

In readiness for Winter drear.

Cold the wind about to chill us,

Merciless is nature's might,

Grateful for the protection afforded

By the walls, roof, heat and light.

This is a dying time of year,

A trying time of letting go,

A time for recalling those we lost,

Of friends of old who no longer show.

Bereft of all but love, in darkness disappear.

Obstacles

The slate though black, is white,

The light emerges from the night;

The rain though falling wet and cold,

May be endured, so I am told -

By hugging close an ancient Oak

And trusting that a thunder crack

Will spare us from a lightening strike,

An heart attack or fatal stroke.

Despite the gloom, each day is born of hope,

It rises with the sun in fiery spark,

Burnishing the sky with scarlet in the East,

Dismissing every forbidding ogre from the dark.

Deep in the mud my boot sole sunk,

Holding it fast with suction strong,

Slowly I pulled it from its grasp,

Yet still the clammy clay, tenacious clung.

The meadow untended turns to waste,

A sea of nettle and of thorn;

Impenetrable does it seem, when with it faced,

With only pathetic hook and arm.

But when the mighty tractor comes on scene,

Throbbing with hydraulic power,

What had once appeared a nightmare dream.

Is now reduced to shards of briar.

So as with sun, the morning beckons bright and clear,

May all our troubles likewise disappear.

Hardship to humans is a common foe

But stress and strain makes stronger bow.