When Autumn comes

Poem by Rosie Adamson-Clark

I have come to the time
When I watch seasons change,
Mainly from my window,
Nature is framed like some
Constable or Turner,

Startling,

I notice garden choices
Some not mine, a year’s growth
Will fade,
Autumn is here,
The full eye blasting colour of the reds
Of the creeper,

A blast of…

The orange of the acers,
Enticing as any succulent fruit,
They will eventually dry out, sleep,
But they have reason to wake in spring,
Ready to reach towards the Light again,

I feel the loss of energy and power,
I have no ability to change the ugly or cruel,
It seems even the garden dead wood
has more use than I,
It can be fuel for a coming harsh winter,

People will go hungry,

Shivering in houses where icy breath
Will form patterns on already damp walls,
Autumn, aptly called The Fall,
Is wagging her finger,
Warning,

Harsh conditions are coming,
I shall not see them,

Moving into the dark times,
Of winter beds,
I am looking at the outside World
From mine,
Enjoying vibrant reds,

Energy from the colours,
Brief respite for tired bodies.

---

Comments

Please login to add a comment