‘When in a flaming and rain-washed October, the orange and scarlet of the dying leaves is stabbed through by the sunlight, and tinged to a deeper purple and crimson by the lustre of the underlying boughs, it is the supreme moment of all autumn’s splendour.’
Today’s entry is;-
Rooks plundering acorns. White frost and a delicate rime underfoot –
The leaves unsodden
Where infant frost has trodden
With his morning-winged feet
Whose bright print is gleaming yet.
For my attempt I shall say;-
A feisty dowager in gold arrives
The weather has failed and autumn comes
Robes that rustled across her gravel drive
Become melody, softened under fallen leaves
She passes by and the front door closes
The fire is lit and the curtains drawn
She will not now leave again till spring’s dawn
Hopefully below are the sunsets I promised to post last week.
