22 September 2012
Blissful crunch of
Leaves underfoot,
The texture of
An autumn walk,
Umber, orange,
Red and gold,
Burn against
Blue skies with
A hint of steel,
A little chill
Blown in from
Winter's future,
Promise of cold,
Distant sun now
Lacking warmth,
Comes with
Early dark
And mornings
Blessed with
A silver-white
Skin of frost;
The first fruits of
A harvest due,
Reap now for soon
Winter will take hold
With two hands,
Knuckles white and cold.
Autumn Montage • Opuss № I