What was glistening green
is now amber and gold,
yet as fair on the eye
as when young, though it’s old.
The energy strong
as the colours arrange
and paint on the woodland
the patterns of change.
Dank air fills the nostrils,
the mulch midden groans
with mountains of leaves
that are swept from the lawns;
to mould through the winter,
then boil, broth and brew
into foods for young grass
that will shine with Spring, dew.
Through the Awen of Autumn,
the Prajna; the Chi!
The vibrant life force
is sent wandering free.
As a seeming death dealer;
decaying and ending.
But just Nature, at work,
on Her, tending and mending.
I don't write many poems of an order that can be dedicated to an Aunt. But this one fell into my head, and it isn't too philosophical and heavy. So as promised, I'm dedicating it to my Auntie Kath. Hope you like it Auntie Kath, X.
Many thanks to Mark Sunderland, for permission to use the pic, from his Yorkshire Through The Seasons series.
www.marksunderland.com
"Sunlit autumn leaves reflected in the rippling water of the River Wharfe near Bolton Abbey."
