I love these quiet early autumn evenings, blank verse all around, words tumbling from each and every direction to subtly rhyme long after the moment’s past.
So softly blue then quick-to-yellow-pink skies. A chill in the air and the smell of last-life leaves. That whiff of over-ripening and almost rotting fruit. These are the evenings when I want to whistle. There’s a resonance to the air, not quite an echo, shrill and sharp, a birdsong in the still. On these evenings a whistle moves a long, long way – who knows where it could settle.
Plants are coming to an end, leaves begin to fall. Down by the bowling club a rogue hop plant has run amuck creeping across the pavement. Small beer in the scheme of things - a single snap of cold and it’ll be gone - but for now a dream of foaming winter ale.
Up on the park the first dead leaves have fallen still. Reaching deep in my pocket to fill my jars - brown and yellow and red, to cut to hearts an autumn shred.
High in the spreading chestnut tree the conkers are coming despite the tree’s brave green. By my measure the first brown nut will drop, bounce, and be stringed, before this month is out. Low mist above the wetted grass this morning - white and wispy, playing hide and seek in corners, trying hard to avoid the coming sunshine and a vanishing.
Not a butterfly in days and quiet bees. Just when did I last hear their busy buzz or see a flutter of red? Have they gone already in early autumn days? And my yard littered with nasturtium seeds, small and wrinkled like shrunken heads - last limping flowers fade from brilliant orange to puce, so soon to fall and turn to wither.
Oh, if only I could catch this in a kitchen jar or two - this early autumn feeling. I’d take them down from my secret shelf to smell the last of this year’s warmth in the coming cold and winter’s evening.
If only I could jar this early autumn, press down the silver lid, pop in the cork - and sell it on in Boots or even Sainsbury’s. What a trade that would be.
I’d make my starry fortune for sure.
Drawforjoy Illustrations on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteIt is. Sad
Catherine Halls-Jukes on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteFun...walking trough leaves at the park, conker collecting, pumpkin carving, firework night all fun with a 4 1/2 year old....can not wait
Tim Preston on Facebook:
ReplyDelete"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" - one of the poems we "did" for O Level English Lit. O levels. Do you remember them?
Kevin Burke on facebook:
ReplyDeleteTime to light my stove, the aroma of burning peat filling the house, and of course approaching flat cap season
Emma Cholmondeley on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteThis was lovely...which reminds me
I try to remember.....
Rustling through crisp October leaves, giggling with little girl delight
The smell of earthy baked potatoes and the growing excitement of
Bonfire Night approaching
Sisters busy wishing, wishing and dreaming little girl dreams.
I try to remember
Afraid to forget what has already gone
An icy pond that lay within a park so fond
Where we searched for perfect, prickly parcels protecting natures shiniest jewel
Oh I remember the childhood glee
I remember
Leaves falling, trees swaying, rain coming
Darkening nights as we walked home from school
Harvest, deserted birds nests, glistening gold leaves carpeting a huge lawn
Cold, frosty mornings and fresh chilly evenings in a warm secure and safe place..........home
I do remember......
But then only a child. A potential.
But the child inside lives on as I remember.........Oh yes I remember
Laura Keegan on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteI don't like them, I love them! X
Kevin Parrott on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteHow long do they last? We have leaves blown off over the past few days, but none yet changing colour.
Catherine Halls-Jukes on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteCatherine wrote "perfect as ever, settled with a glass of wine, looking at our conkers already fallen, and imagining tomorrows adventures with 2 little girls, what will their eyes see, what will they smell.....or will it pass them by as they rush through the leaves on their way to the swings....the joys of youth and the joy of your appreciation as we grow older...."
Eden Moon commented on Facebook:
ReplyDeletelove this