A Little Seasoning

The ferns have started to rust

in the autumn winds

the Oak leaves

a little jaundiced now


The hedgerows have had

their short back and sides

ready for winter

the Yew berries lie juicy on the floor


The faint hint of bonfires

hangs in the air

as the farmers sit and  smoke

their stubble


The first baize of winter Kale

dresses the snooker tables

as the acorns crunch

like cornflakes underfoot


Scarlet pin pricks

pierce the Holly bushes

as the Willow leaves

get heavier


The pylons hum a haunting tune

as the breeze caresses them

and the pheasants strut about

thinking they are peacocks


The industrious squirrels

are busy, busy, busy

filling larders and pantries

busy, busy, busy


The Rosehips fade a little

and without moisturiser

or a good night cream

a few wrinkles and laughter lines


The Apples on the path

make Cider and Calvados

on their carpets

to sell at market in spring


The Kestrel hovers

and watches that little bit

more closely than before

eyes sharper than ever


Soon now Autumn will reach

inside her workshop

to find her palette

and create her Masterpiece


Already the signs are there,

I can see her rummaging

for her smock and glasses,

they will sit tight on her nose.


Already the signs are there.