This leather sky is a passport for frosts
Inked by wheeling crows.
Summer, absent-minded as it goes
Scatters gold behind to cover costs.
And there's this bitter beauty in the change;
The gong of hollow freezing's soft and low.
Sugar-luggaged berries tempt the crow
Til' hedgerows bristle -empty, sharp and strange.
On the wingback of migrating flocks
With flurried leaves as tickets, Summer's gone.
For us, it's fleecy blankets, heating on.
Chicken stew and sleeping in your socks.
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The Octoberman. All I need is a bottle of Talisker, a keyboard and you. Facebook: Nikarkham www.nikarkham.co.uk
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,.
Red and burgundy leaves floating gently down,. Summer no longer wears the season crown,. Autumn falls, a serene orange haze,. A burst of colour through the coloured maze,.
The earthy smell that's underfoot, The night that draws in cold. The spiders that seek refuge here, And sit on carpet bold. The berries ripened in the hedgerow, For birds and child alike.
Lush green leaves turn to copper, amber and gold. Floating down to the ground as the Autumn wind blows. Red Japanese Maple trees unleash their fiery tones.
Lie us down. In fields of green. Admiring dew. In its fine sheen. Chasing sand dunes. Laughter. Smiles. Coldest flesh. On coldest tiles. Warm warm showers. Hot drinks and food. Winter's coming.
From the arc of rainfall from the sky, To all the birds southwards up high, To all those early mornings, dark, To the absence of that singing lark.
Yellow leaves and autumn reds, Deep, dark green and holly-heads, Russet sunshine through the glade, This is how the fall is made: Sometimes rain, The lightest sheen, Patchy sunlight, In between.
I open up the cobwebbed door, As a hurl of cold wind attacks my face, I step outside onto the squelching doormat, And set my eyes upon this 'November place'.
Had to read more than once to get the full impact (v. Tired tonight - in bed already!!!π³). Love the imagery, a beautiful poem - I sure prefer your version of winter!!!!! ππππ
@wolfie I'm actually quite looking fwd to making all the soup and casseroles! ππ΅π²ππ΄ yum yum ππ
Summer's gone?!! Shit! I was still waiting for it to arrive! βββ (really good write! πππ)
I find myself coming back to this again and again to enjoy. It really is a fabulously imaginative and evocative piece. I find it makes me look forward to the new seasonβ¨πβ¨πππ
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