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AUTUMN

A sea of swirling, swooping swallows surfed the sunlit sky,
The Autumn wind was whispering 'It's time for you to fly,
Don't watch the apples falling, or the leaves the cold will bite
And hurl upon the misty air, before the world turns white.

You must away before you see the bare boughs of the trees,
You must away before the day flicks frost upon the breeze,
Before the little children ask their mothers for the string
To pierce the shiny conkers so the battles can begin.

You must be gone' the Autumn sighed 'for all things have their time,
The Great Creator set a path into a warmer clime
And you have sensed it calling from a land so far away,
You do not have to wait until the dawn turns dark and grey.

It is that time when leaves turn gold and burnished carpets spread
To cover up the hardened earth against the cold ahead.'
The whisper faltered on the wind, but somehow it was heard,
The cosmic dance reformed and wheeled, till there was not one bird.

'Goodbye' the Autumn whispered as she shook her titian hair,
'Come back in Spring'...but they were gone, beyond the sunlit air.

 

~Annette Keeble Martens.