Just pair harvest moon And crystal droplets Forlornly falling.
Lazing, grazing Cattle meander meadows Like drifting clouds
Skittling Scullery skulking Kids Scatter upturned cups.
Season’s first north wind Sparkles up the serenade Of my new wind chime
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.
Sad face split Like the Conquered conker, In bits and floored.
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.