Monday, 31 October 2011

(A Toast to) Sparkling, Fading, October.











Loch shores shine
Sun burst swell,
Tipping tides,
In upturned shell,
Hillsides blaze in
Orange,
Gold,
Crimson,
Amber,
Maple,
Oak.

A burning bush,
To trample on,
Yellow is copper,
When night is gone.

Scented riches,
Bittersweet smell,
To silent carpet,
Acorns knell.

Dropping life, deciduous trees,
Uncovered, like defiant thieves,
Are knowing they
Should take their leave,
Content in course,
To one day breathe.

They steal away,
But never grieve,
'Fore all shuts down,
At full frost heave.

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