The darkness expands, consumes the day.
Cloud low on the hill, wraiths in the trees.
Aspens tremble in the piercing winds,
sycamore first to shed its leaves
Trees unbutton ready for storms.
Twigs let fly leaves into the wind to
a fiery death on the forest floor, or
slicking the wet road, skids on the line
Make much mulch with the mudding earth
The warmth awakens the early spring bulbs.
Catkins exposed on naked trees,
spring is ready, but winter comes first
Starlings flock in many murmurations.
They wheel and swoop through the sky,
await the signal to leave these shores.
Empty cold wires, swallows all flown.
Children in wellies and warm winter woolies
gambol in parks like early spring lambs.
Squadrons of parents cluster to chat,
coated and scarfed ‘gainst the westerly wind
Puddles in gutters reflect the weather,
Nested in potholes, wets the walkers boots.
Cyclists pedal, their lives on the line
Buses hide people behind steamy windows
Frontier between summer and winter
Insulates summer’s warmth from winter’s cold.
Too cold for summer, too warm for winter
My favourite season, Autumn.
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