Gold, orange, red on the horizon arrayed

And with each passing breeze they begin their cascade

Making a carpet of autumn hues

Crunching underneath our passing shoes

The beauty of nature wondrously displayed

As children await the raking,

So in the piled leaves they can wade


The Turning Time

The lavender is no longer in bloom

And the buddleia’s flowers are dry and gray

The trees are rich in orange and red

But brown is starting to have its way

It is that turning time of year

When chill nights follow shorter days

The neighbours ghosts and witches hang

From their garden gateways

And await the coming of the hoards

Wanting trick-or-treat to play


What’s in a Name?

AlainAudet @ Pixabay

British Summertime came in the other day

It snowed and sleeted anyway

For most summer is filled with warm rays

But that seems optional in the UK

Today I watch the grey clouds mass

Dropping sheets of cold rain as they pass

So summertime I guess is here

The wet and chilly time of year



Snowdrop, Flowers, Meadow, Plant, Bloom

Spring has begun its sneaking through

Showing hope of somethings new

Dawn chorus moments amid the dew

And snowdrops are emerging too

I know it is but February

And with hopes of spring we must be wary

But maybe it can be an allusion

Of hope amid the daily news’ intrusions


Never Fall

Storm, Damage, Hurricane, Wind, Disaster

In England it’s called Autumn, and never referred to as Fall

Today, I watched as leaves blew sideways and upwards, none went downwards at all

The rain it comes in cold hard bullets, and makes puddles to chill our feet

And they tell us now that this evening, we will be able to enjoy some sleet


Greenwich Mean Time

Brown Wooden Signage on Green Plants
Taryn Elliott @ Pexels

It is that time of year again

When clocks swing back from eleven to ten

When days get darker in mid-afternoon

Owing to a government mandate changing noon

So British Summer has come to an end

Until March – when we bend time again