A poem about an autumn walk in the countryside
|Beneath the mellow tree boughs, I wade through|
Fallen leaves. They crunch, crisp, like paper bags.
Red, gold, brown - this year's last colour blazes.
Thickets blossom with their hoard of berries.
Fieldfare flocks feast from fallen crab-apples.
Red-wings scatter out hawthorns as I near.
Lightning ribbons, squirrels whisk up an oak.
They tease me, peeping unexpectedly.
Like green hedgehogs, chestnuts nestle the ground.
Nearby, mushrooms thrust furled fists. A pipping.
Long-tailed tits arrow across the fiery sky.
Has night come on already? I turn back.
From the valley floor mist rises, ghostly.
Breathes cobwebs to glittering necklaces.
Come next morning, the first frost dusts rooftops,
Sure sign that winter is on its way.