A Morning's Walk with Autumn Tones ...A poem by Ray Checketts

The young day glows bright as the sun rises and burns through the morning’s mist

A breath of cold wind rustles the bright autumn leaves, sends a shiver down your spine

Quail puff up and huddle in the frost, amid the rosehip and briar bushes bare of leaves

Black swan pass high overhead, glide past hear a whistle and the hiss of wind over their wings.

The carpet of white morning frost will soon disappear to reveal the tortured snow tussock beneath

The wind blows the golden poplar leaves to litter the pathway along the banks of the stream

The air is cold, fog pours of the water as it flows down to the lake

In the fields the cattle awaken stand in a clouds of steam

 And stare through blood red eyes like medieval beasts

They bellow at the forlorn figure huddled and scuttling through the dawns early light

The rippling waters reflect the morning sun’s rays which warm the land and thaw the frost

By mid-morning the day has cleared a warm breeze has dispersed the foggy haze

The landscape is bright with autumn tones ablaze in summer’s deathly clothes

The last breathes of late summer’s heat caresses your cheek like a young girls kiss

And the birds of the high country come to life and sing a chorus to all who will listen

Ray Checketts  April 2012