~
wild fruit colours are on the turn
the last of the under-ripe berries
shining angrily as kicked shins,
they trampoline sedately
upon heavily laden boughs
spiders’ webs precariously under-spring
this miniature circus scene,
the dawn air changes too
briskly misting my face,
a sense of unease prevails
a cautious reticence blows
a chilly breath around my collar
prompting me to half-turn,
I feel as if a fragile summer
is bidding me an early farewell,
my heart slows, heavy with
a helpless sense of time passing,
time lost forever filed away
never to return,
so, I sit and listen to the dying noises
breathe in the sweet
musky decay of the passing season
and keep watch as summer
reluctantly curls around itself
folding away its rich bounty
*
© Graham R Sherwood 09/23
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 