Leaf Fall

My recurring autumnal mantra

‘if I could only have a quid

for every one of these’.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea

there’s only the lightest breeze

but the leaf fall swirls around my legs

like excited wilful children

hell bent on evading capture.

It’s the noise that I notice most

a clatter like plates, or else the

sporadic half-hearted clapping

of an unsure audience.

Mindless work

but they are beautiful

most obviously the vine leaves

which try to hide like refugees

beneath the plain-clothed willow spears.

Rain is forecast tomorrow so

there is no choice in the matter

as the vibrating rake hums like a guimbard

across the patchwork colours.

There is a bonfire somewhere

the feintest charred nuance

like a mug of Russian Caravan

as a suggestion begins to form

*

© Graham Sherwood 11/2020