Today, the sun laboured to barely half sky height,
a long summer's exertions seemingly wearying it's ascent
before it slid slowly to the horizon,
casting shadows long and eastward.
Trees that were lit like beacons
as autumn died its beautiful death,
stood stark, arthritic, naked,
their branches grasping for a warmth now gone.
A lone crow cawed, it's cry haunting
as it echoed through the copse,
before trailing off into the distance across fields now barren,
summers harvest long since reaped.
In the coming weeks, months, all will be dusted white,
crisp underfoot, as winter slowly, surely, takes hold.
I shivered, pulled my collar around my ears,
" roll on spring... "