Autumn / by Michael Elwick

By | February 9, 2021
Hear this page!

Autumn, the wind blows and the rain pours.

In the hedgerow, nature’s harvest grows,

Hips and haws bright red,

Blackberries ripen in the autumn sun.

 

Birds have reared their young and fly in pairs

Seemingly unwilling to break their family ties.

All the beasts of the field prepare

For the winter, and all that lies ahead.

 

And yet the sun still glows with autumn rays

Promising the year will turn

And we might hope for spring and summer,

A return to some sort of normality some day.

 

But now we must make do with shorter days

And the cold of winter snows.

The bright light and definition we may see

And the ploughing, tilling and drilling yet to be.

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