As clouds age north-wise They gradually crown themselves With snowy white wreaths.
Rising dust smudges The polished blue of the sky – a combine’s con-trail.
Rouge tints shy, dry cheeks Of ivy blanket wrapping Autumn tea retreat.
The liquid mirror offers shorebound rovers a moment’s reflection.
Bright bunting billows, Like proud bursting sails, bows with Busty figureheads.
Days shorten quickly Like salt-shy snails recoiling Back into their shells.
Wild chipboard chaos, A crowing cacophony, Like leaves in Autumn.
A boy pricks his ears At the sound of crunching leaves Descending like dree.
Subtle pawing Cat Chases away Summer days Of lazy soft heat.
Field mouse wraps his tail Around harvest heights yielding Golden beads of wheat.