Rude awakening, non-stop och-och-och of a pheasant…
Pheasant’s stammered call
chops up the morning quiet.
Pick up the pieces.
(28/11/14)
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Gradually, in the rain, all that incredible gold and bronze and copper and other, indefinable colours are darkening…
Autumn’s hoard of gold,
amassed in those better days,
slowly tarnishes.
(21/11/14)
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It’s hard to let go of summer and that amazing Autumn…
Like the shedding trees,
we cling to bright, warm colours.
Winter denial.
(14/11/14)
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In reverse alchemy, the weather turns gold leaves to brown…
Sky-emptying rain
bronzes the gilded carpet.
Browned-off leaves let go.
(07/11/14)