Chapter (6) AUTUMN

AUTUMN

 

Breathed air, cuts the throat and burns the lungs, cold as a knife.

The shrouded sky blanket grey hangs with overpowering stillness.

A footstep’s trail crunched across crystal covered grass.

While coughing cars struggle reluctant against the key of life.

Golden leaves cling precarious awaiting winter’s winds release

And far off faintly heard the motorway hiss.

Scarf clad husbands stand in doorways, collars raised

watching countless roofs spill grey white pillars of smoke,

disinclined to rise through the morning mist.

Eyes tearfully cold search the fir-fringed trees

no breeze to give movement.

Autumn comes with devious intent her fingers penetrating,

Infiltrating, manipulating our world.

Slyly she allows moments of sun, just enough to give us hope.

The last of the summer flowers admit defeat

and bow their heads before the bird bare telephones wires.

Fog coated mornings give way to bright afternoons but gone too soon.

The flat yellow sun devoid of warmth slides ever faster into night.

There is no drama as with winters dramatic snow covered panorama,

no crashing rain with thunderous applause

to announcing its cause.

Autumn a time of “mists and mellow fruitfulness”