For me my last free day of the summer turned into my first day of the autumn. College starts again next week and I thought I would make the most of one of my last days of the summer holidays by taking a short walk around my local area. As I walked I realised that whilst I had been having fun enjoying the summer, autumn had slipped quietly in the back door, almost without me noticing. The last week or so has brought a different sort of dampness to the air, a particular, instantly recognisable smell to the early mornings, and days of weather which cant decide between a t-shirt or jumper!
Whilst many people may think of autumn as a dreary damp pre-runner to winter, shouldn't we really treat it as a glorious explosion of colour; a celebration of a fruitful, and hopefully successful year with all the promise of another one to come.
The sights and smells of this new chapter in the yearly story of the countryside set my hand itching for pen and paper and inspired this poem.
The Circle of the Seasons
As I walk along the lane, on a dull and dreary day,
I realise summertime has faded, autumn's here again.
It seems only yesterday, when sunny days were long,
When flowers danced at roadsides, crops nodded in the fields.
Now the berries on the Hawthorn, the Holly and the Rose,
Swollen by summer showers, are slowly turning red.
Between the dusty leaves of Ivy, that climbs the garden shed,
Small buds of winter flowers are waiting for the frosts.
The mornings are feeling chilly, there's a dampness in the air.
The summer-silent Robin now begins to sing.
As the leaves begin to fall, like the curtain on a stage,
The last summer dancers begin to show their age.
The first autumn actors are waiting in the wings,
They've rehearsed their every line, know the parts they have to play.
The ever-lasting circle has turned and changed once more,
Summertime has faded and autumn's here again.
But beneath the ground are waiting, the expectant seeds of spring,
Promising the circle, will turn and change again.
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