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.