Fields softly dying, trees dropping old dry leaves,
Shedding summer garb, gathering golden sheaves,
Mantle of greying mists embracing the sleepy land,
Leaving tired earth, colour of bronze saffron strands.
The gentle dying of old lilac & lacy lavender blooms,
Crushed underfoot, jasmine petals of summer moons,
Ochre dust of work-worn-bees & old windblown fruit,
Rotting beneath passing of plodding plum-stained boot.
Of triste bonfire smoke, those of nature´s funeral pyres,
Sizzling sausage & marshmallow, toasted on autumn fires,
Mulling of wine, crisp skies & creamy auburn pumpkin pies,
The distant humming of old wasps, last flashing of fire-flies.
Pungent aromatic spices, of a new season birthed & born,
Hedgerows of rubied berries, their reaching arms adorned,
The perfumed messages wafting, in copper season anew,
Autumn whispers to her summer friend, go well now & adieu.
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