The wind has come a-chuckling
Through the autumn trees.
The leaves are all a-tremble
For fear of any breeze.
Just a tiny puff of air
Can cause them each to fall,
And in a little while
None will be left at all.
Thus autumns’ gracious colour
Will lie at each trees’ feet,
As branches brown then wait
Winters’ icy grip to greet.
Inheritance
Long ago
you planted the tree.
Anxiously and tenderly
you nourished
and watered it.
Today,
the beauty of its colours,
the bounty of its shade,
blesses me.
Appreciation
Nature has carved her patterns
into a trunk of white.
And my eyes are blessed to see
her art work:a wondrous sight!
There was a “summer fog” today
shrouding everything in mist.
Drops of shining moisture clung
where tree and fog had kissed.
My shadow came with me
as I walked out today,
she stayed close beside me
all along the way.
I noticed shadows everywhere:
by bush and shrub and tree,
they all stood quite still;
but mine walked on with me.
{this scene had two rubbish bins, a road sign, and some graffiti, can you identify them from the “patch up” I tried?}
The sun sinks quietly in the west
and the trees are afire with a new zest
.
Today I went looking for Autumn,
And found her in brightest attire,
With yellows, golds, orange and red,
Her gowns seemed almost on fire!
I gazed my fill of her lovely face,
For I know she will not stay.
One morning I’ll look out my window,
To find she’s left me a winter’s day.
EFWoolley©
Spilling Glory
Tiered Lovliness
Contrasting companions
Jigsaw puzzle material
Golden bunches
Red, red leaves
Minding the gate
Through the gap
Red, yellow, and green
In the valley
Against the blue
Delicate shades
Looking into glory
Hope you enjoy the results of my search for Autumn today!
Effie
Autumn
The leaves are turning colour once again it seems.
Another season opening my heart to foolish dreams.
But are hearts ever foolish that beat to quiet dreams?
For Autumn isn’t always, and life not as it seems.
The leaves of course will fall from every changing tree,
As branches bare and brown hold out their length to me.
But branches rest when leafless; and when winter storms are past,
The soft green shoots will tremble as life returns at last.
So hope, my foolish heart for springtime’s tender green,
Even when the leaves are red or barest branches seen.
EFWoolley©
from heart to head 